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4 









LADY DAMEK’S SECRET. 


BY BERTHA M. CLAY. 


POPULAR NOVELS 

BY 

BERTHA M. CLAY. 


MROWN ON THE WORLD $1.50 

A BITTER ATONEMENT 1.50 

LOVE WORKS WONDERS 1.50 

EVELYN’S FOLLY 1.50 

LADY DAMER’S SECRET 1.50 

A WOMAN’S TEMPTATION 1.50 

REPENTED AT LEISURE 1.50 

All published uniform -with this volume, and sent 
by mail, free of postage, on receipt of price. 


BY 

G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers, 

NEW YORK. 


LADY DAMEE’S SECEET 


A Novel. 


BY THE AUTHOR OF 


iiTHROWN ON THE WORLD,” “A BITTER ATONEMENT,” “LOVE 


WORKS WONDERS, .“^EVELYNS FOLLY, ETC. 


^ "u ’ 

“When hope lies dead within the heart, 

By secret sorrow close concealed, 

We shrink lest looks or words impart 
What must not be revealed.” 

Anne Hunter. 



NEW YORK. T ' ' 

G. W. Car let on ^ Co.y Publishers, 


STREET & SMITH, New York Weekly. 

MDCCCLXXXI. 


Entered accordinc to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, 
By Steeet & Smith, 

in the Ofdce of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 




rv 




FRANCIS S. STREET, 
FRANCIS S. SMITH, 


I Proprietors and Fablistiers 


OF THE 

NEW YORK WEEKLY, 


The Leading Story and Sketch Paper of the Age, 


To 

The Readers of the 

NEW YORK WEEKLY, 

Who for nearly twenty years, have stood faithfully by us, 
cheering us in our labors, and bidding us God-speed ; 

^ TO whom our pet journal has become a House- 
hold word, and without whose aid we 
COULD have accomplished NOTH- 
ING, THIS volume is re- 
spectfully DEDI- 

C A T E D 

By THE Publishers, 


STREET & SMITH. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I — Introduction 9 

II— “The Pity of It.” 15 

III — “Can You Save Me?” 20 

IV — The Price of Sin r 27 

V— Convalescence 33 

VI— A Blank Page 38 


I— Avonwold 45 

II— The Whispering Limes 50 

III — My Lady Damer 55 

IV— Mrs. Damer’s Ideas . , . 60 

V — Lady Florence Damer at Home 66 

VI — Lady Damer Makes another Enemy 72 

VII— The Flight OF Years 77 

VIII— The Cottage at Widcombe 82 

IX — A Mysterious Visitor 88 

X — The Interview 93 

XI— Rob’s Impressions 99 

XII — Anonymous Gifts 104 

XIII— A Row on the River 108 

XIV — Hatton Court 114 

XV — Country People 119 

XVI— The Dinner Party at Hatton Court 125 

XVII — Lady Damer’s Dream 130 

XVIII— Miss Charteris Returns 135 

XIX — The Green Silk Purse 140 

XX — The Pattering of Rain Drops 145 

XXI — Visitors at Avonwold 150 

XXII— Miss Charteris Grows Desperate 155 

XXIII— Miss Charteris Succeeds 160 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER. page. 

XXIV — The Old, Old Story 165 

XXV — Rob Elster’s Scheme 167 

XXVI — Robert Elster Falls in Love 171 

XXVII — “I Like Handsome Presents, too.” 176 

XXVIII— Rob’s Scheme 181 

XXIX — Rob’s Success 186 

XXX— The Dinner at Charles Terrace 191 

XXXI— A Stone Wall 197 

XXXII— “I AM Driven to It.” 202 

XXXIII — Change of Scene 207 

XXXIV— Macbeth 212 

XXXV— In Paradise 217 

XXXVI— On the Trail 222 

XXXVII — Recognition 227 

XXXVIII— The Martyrdom of Hope Charteris 233 

XXXIX — The Evil Begins to Work 237 

XL— Hope’s Despair 242 

XLI — The Bravery of PIope Charteris 247 

XLII — Kate Repton Grows Jealous 252 

XLIII— The Darkening of the Cloud 257 

XLIV — Lady Damer’s Fear 262 

XLV — The Fatal Gift 267 

XLVI— The Interview 272 

XLVII— Known at Last 277 

XL VIII — Red Vengeance 282 

XLIX— The Shadow of the Cloud 286 

L— “Shot Dead.” 291 

LI — Avonwold in Shadow 296 

LII — The Cedar Tree 301 

LIII— The Perfumes of Arabia 306 

LiV — M onsieur Dupre 310 

LV— Sorrow at Croston 317 

LVI — A Mother Bereaved 320 

LVII— The Accusation 323 

LVIII— The Beginning of the End 329 

LIX— Wilful Murder 332 

LX— The Bolt Falls 336 

LXI -The Proofs 340 

LXII— Sorrow More Bitter than Death 344 

LXIII— “I AM Not Guilty.” 349 

LXIV— “The Secret.” 354 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER. PAGE. 

LXV — Goaded to Betrayal 358 

LXVI— “You ARE HIS Mother.” 362 

LXVII— Lady Damer’s Secret 367 

LXVlII-yTiiE Story Continued 372 

LXIX — The Story Concluded 376 

LXX~What Came of It 381 

LXXI — “Worse than Death.” 385 

LXXII— “Help Me, My Son.” 389 

LXXIII— On a Charge of Willful Murder 394 

LXXIV — Verner at Work 400 

LXXV— “Who is Kate Repton?” 404 

LXXVI— The Romany Race 409 

LXXVII — “1 AM Guilty.” a- 4^3 

LXX VIII— Monsieur Dupre at Fault 418 

LXX IX— M ARCHMOUNT TOWERS 423 

LXXX— Shadow and Sun *. . . 427 


LADY DAMEE’S SEOKET, 


CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

Dr. West sat in his quiet surgery alone. The noise and traffic 
of the day were over. The warm June sun was setting; the 
birds were winging their way home ; the pretty little town of 
Riversmead was gradually sinking into the calm of night. 

Dr. West had come to his surgery to study. Dinner was 
over, and the children were at play ; circumstances were not 
favorable to the quiet he loved, so that he had left the drawing- 
room, and sat, book in hand, deeply engrossed in reading. 

He was startled by a sudden and imperative ring at the sur- 
gery door, and wondered, half impatiently, who wanted him. 
He had no patients in danger, and none who required another 
visit that night. As he rose to open the door, he gave a sigh, 
and closed the book that had so deeply interested him. When 
he opened the door, he saw that the evening shadows lay slant- 
ing across the street, and there, in the gloaming, stood a lady, 
well dressed, and apparently over thirty years of age. Her vail 
was thrown back, so that he had a full view of her face. It had 
been comely once, and was not unprepossessing now; there 
were deep lines upon it, that told of anxious thoughts and many 
cares. It was not what one would call an amiable face; the 
owner of it had no amiable weaknesses. It was not the face 


10 


LADY DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 


of a woman to whom one would run with open heart in the 
hour of need or trouble. It was strong, self-reliant, self-con- 
tained as was Hope Charteris herself. 

She looked at the doctor with keen, inquiring eyes; one 
glance seemed to reassure her. She nodded and smiled. 

“I wish to see Dr. West,” she said. 

am Dr. West,” was the reply; and the lady entered the 
surgery and took the seat the doctor placed ready for her. He 
stood waiting until she spoke. 

am a stranger here. Dr. West,” she said, in a clear, steady 
voice. ‘ ‘ I am traveling with my young sister from the north of 
England, where she has been staying some time, to London ; 
my sister, however, seems too ill to proceed, so I have decided 
upon remaining a few days at Riversmead.” 

The doctor bowed. The lady continued : 

"‘My sister was very ill, faint, and quite unlike herself, so I 
went at once to the Railway Hotel, as being the nearest at hand. 
I should be glad if you would come and see her at once.” 

“I will do so. Can you give me any idea as to what is the 
matter with her.? Is it a sudden attack of fever.?” 

The lady looked frankly in his face. 

“I can form no idea,” she replied, “unless it is a nervous 
fever. ” 

“Is she young or old? married or single?” 

The lady smiled again. 

“She is but just eighteen, and far more of a child than a 
woman. Will you call this evening?” 

She laid before him a card — “Miss Charteris” — and, tak- 
ing a small pencil from the little bunch of charms that hung 
from her chain, she added, “Railway Hotel.” 

“I will be there in less than half an hour,” .said the doctor. 
“If your sister is really ill, I should advise you to leave the 
Railway Hotel and take lodgings in a quieter part of the 
town. ” 

“I hope she is not so ill as ihat” .replied Miss Charteris, 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


II 


*^but you will judge for yourself; I shall be guided by your 
decision when you have seen her. ” 

Then with another smile, and bow, the lady left the sur- 
gery, and the doctor turned to prepare for going out. 

He was glad afterward that he did not obey his first impulse, 
which was to run up stairs to the drawing-room and tell his 
wife. He rang the bell, told his servant that he was going 
out, but should not be very long, then set out on his errand. 

The Railway Hotel was w'ell known to be the busiest house 
in Riversmead — it was always full of people, some coming, 
some going. Now, when the doctor entered, there was the 
usual confusion. It was with some little difficulty that he 
obtained an answer to his question. Then a chambermaid, 
who looked very tired and cross, told him Miss Charteris. was in 
No. 27, and very considerately took him there. 

“Come in,” said the same calm, steady voice that was al- 
ready familiar to him ; and opening the door. Dr. West found 
himself once more within the presence of Hope Charteris. 

‘ ‘ I am very pleased you have come, ” she said ; ‘ ‘ my sister 
is lying down, she does not seem any better. I will fetch her.” 

‘ ‘ Nay, do not disturb her. I shall prefer going to her, ” he 
replied. 

Miss Charteris led the way to a small sleeping-room. 

“Florence,” she said, gently; “do not be frightened, dear, I 
have brought a doctor to see you. ” 

The only reply was a low moan, which the doctor rightly in- 
terpreted to be a cry of fear. 

“I thought you were lying down,” said Miss Charteris, as 
they went into the room, “and there you are, sitting by the 
window, thinking over all kinds of dull things. Now, my dar- 
ling, cheer up, and let us cure you !” 

Hope Charteris went up to her sister and kissed her ; then the 
doctor saw a slight, girlish figure, wrapped in a heavy shawl. 
He started when he caught sight of the face— it was the lovelh 


12 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


est he had ever seen, but ghastly white, and that pallor came, 
he felt sure, from fear. 

“ Now, doctor,” said Miss Charteris, “come and look at my 
sister. She is very shy ; you must please excuse her.” 

Dr. West came nearer, and then he saw beautiful violet eyes 
raised to his — beautiful, but. wild with some terrible fear. He 
saw a fair young head, from which the golden-brown hair hung 
in long, waving masses. 

Why did she turn half shuddering from him, and hold up her 
little white hand with a gesture of fear } 

“Now, Florence,” said Miss Charteris, “sit down, dear, and 
let us see what the doctor thinks of you. ” 

The young girl did as she was told. 

Dr. West took her hand to feel her pulse. The hand was 
cold as death, and shook so that he could hardly hold it. 

“ Poor child,” said the doctor, “ she is very nervous. Have 
courage ; there is nothing much to fear. We shall have you 
well before the corn is ripe in the meadows.” 

What were those lovely eyes, so full of wild anguish> saying ? 
Why did the hands and the delicate figure tremble like aspen 
leaves in the wind ? Dr. West looked anxiously at the white 
face — once, twice — then a sudden shock came to him. He 
dropped the feeble hand, then took hold of it again. 

‘ ‘ Have you had any trouble of mind that has preyed upon 
your health .?” he asked. 

The white face flushed crimson, the white lips opened, but no 
sound came from them. Miss Charteris, standing by her side, 
smiled. 

‘ ‘ The last great trouble was a broken doll, ” she said ; ‘ ‘ my 
sister has had none since then.” 

Then came from the white lips a^oan that made the doc- 
tor’s heart ache. 

“You see,” said Miss Charteris, “she is faint; that contin- 
ual faintness requires a remedy. ” 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRET. 1 3 

Another glance at the young face so full of anguish, then the 
kind-hearted doctor said : 

“ Miss Charteris, will you go yourself and get an egg beaten 
up in a wineglass of sherry? You have found by this time that 
to ring a bell and order anything here is simply never to get 
it.” 

Hope Charteris bent over her sister. She brushed back the 
shining masses of hair, and kissed the white brow. The 
young girl seemed to shrink shudderingly from the kind, moth- 
erly caress. 

Never a word spoke Dr. West, until the sound of the lady’s 
footsteps had died away, then, with a grave face and aching 
heart, he bent over the patient. 

“My poor child,” he said, ‘ ^ h ow is this, and you so young 
— so very^yoilllg — almost a child ?” 

She raised her white face to his. 

“ You l^.o}v s ecret ?” she said, simply. 

“Poor child, yes, I know it ; every one must know it very 
soon.” 

She clasped her hands with a passionate cry he never for- 
got. 

“ Oh, sir,” she said, “ help me to die ; help me to die ! You 
are wise and clever — help me. I dare not live ! See,” she con- 
tinued, with feverish energy, ‘ ‘ it would not be wrong. I am 
frightened to live. Sir, for Heaven’s sake, for mercy’s sake, 
help me to die !” 

“I cannot,” he replied, sadly. “Death is an act of 
God’s mercy — not of man’s will. When man wills it, it is 
murder !” 

“What shall I do.?” she moaned, helplessly. “Sir, what 
shall I do ? I have been mad for many months with the terror 
of my secret ; I am m^cT’now. Is there no oblivion for one so 
wretched and lost? No one can help me.” 

Dr. West’s kindly face had grown pale ; something like a 
mist of tears shone in his eyes. 


14 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“You are so very young, ” he murmured, pitifully. “Does’ 
your sister knoiv nothing of this ?” 

“No, nothing,'’ cried the girl. “She must never know, sir. 
It would kill her with grief and shame. She has been mother 
and sister both to me. She comes of a good old race — of pi- 
ous, honorable people. My sister would die if she knew. " 

He looked down upon her with infinite pity. 

“I was very ill in the train,” she said, “and Hope would 
not go any farther. I did not know she had gone to fetch a 
doctor, or I should have killed myself while she was away. I 
meant to — to — to die to-night. ” 

“Poor child,” he said; “poor, unfortunate child! So 
young, so lovely — ah 1 great Heaven, the pity of it.” 

“I am so frightened,” she said, shudderingly. “Why does 
not fear kill more quickly .? Oh, sir, if you have any pity, any 
mercy — if you can understand my anguish and despair — help 
me to die I * That is the only kindness any one can do for me. 
Oh, Death, come to me ; Death, take me ! Oh, mercifuf 
Heaven, let me die 1” 

She threw up her arms with a cry that haunted him for years 
afterward, and then fell as one dead on the floor. 

He raised her, laid her on the bed, wrapped the heavy shawl 
round her, and waited in silence until her sister returned. He 
made no effort to recover her. Perhaps he thought insensibility 
less cruel than life. 


LADY DAMEJ^^S SECRET, 


15 


CHAPTER 11. 

*^THE PITY OF IT.” 

“I have been a long time,” said the calm voice of Hope 
Charteris. “Eggs are at a discount here. How is Flor- 
ence ?” 

Then she saw the silent figure laid on the little bed, and the 
doctors pale, grave face. 

“Is she worse ? What has happened she cried. 

“Your sister has fainted,” replied Dr. West. “You need 
not be alarmed. ” 

Hope Charteris went quietly to the bedside. She began to 
draw away the heavy shawl draped round the slight figure. 

'“I cannot imagine,” she said, “ why Florence will wrap her- 
self up so. She persists in wearing those heavy shawls. I am 
sure the heat makes her faint.” 

“Do not touch her. Miss Charteris; I — I have discovered 
the secret of your sister’s illness, and wish to speak to jou about 
it. Let us go into the other room, where, if she awakes to con- 
sciousness, she cannot hear us.” 

Still carrying the glass in her hand, Miss Charteris followed 
Dr. West into the sitting-room. Never, in the whole course of 
his life, had he felt in such distress, so embarrassed, so help- 
less, so grieved. 

“I know what 3 ^ou have to tell me,” said Miss Charteris, 
looking up in her frank, candid way into his face. “Do not 
fear to speak ; my nerves and heart are both strong, thank 
Heaven. ” 

But Dr. West did not speak. 

“ You wish to tell me that my poor darling is consumptive. 


I 


i6 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


It is what I feared, but I will do my best. Is that the secret, 
Dr. West?” 

“Would to Heaven it were,” he replied. “I am at a loss 
how to tell you. Miss Charteris, or how to break it to you. 
You say your sister is only eighteen ?” 

“She was eighteen in May,” was the brief reply. 

“Pardon me, but has her life been spent with you ?” 

“Until four months ago ; then she left me to go on a visit 
to some friends in the North. They fancied her health and 
spirits failing, so wrote to me to fetch her home again. ” 

“I must ask you to oardon me,” he said again ; “has she 
any lover or admirers ?” 

Miss Charteris smiled. 

“Nothing of the kind,” she replied. “You forget she is but 
a child.” 

“I can only say, Heaven help you to bear what I have to 
tell,” said the doctor. 

Miss Charteris placed the glass upon the table. 

“You alarm me,” she cried. “What is the matter. Dr. 
West?” 

“ I would rather suffer anything than have to tell you, and if 
it troubles me so much, what will it cost you ?” 

“Remember,” she said, gently, “ that suspense is very hard 
to bear. ” 

“Heaven knows I am reluctant to speak, but you must be 
told. The truth is. Miss Charteris, that ” 

He faltered, then stopped, abruptly. 

“Pray go on,” she cried. “I can suffer anything better than 
this suspense. ” 

(^“The truth is that your sister must have been privately mar- 
ried, for in less than two days she will be the mother of a little 
child. 

Every word fell distinctly and clearly in the silent room ; 
every word was a burning sword in the heart of the woman who 
listened. She uttered no cry, and made no moans, but her 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 ' SECRE T, 1 7 

face grew deathly pale. She sat down as one who had just 
heard his own death-warrant and is bewildered by it. 

“Are you sure?’’ she said at last, and then her voice was so 
changed Dr. West hardly recogrized it. 

‘ ‘ I am quite sure of it, ” he replied. ‘ ‘ I should not have 
spoken unless I had been so. It is fear of her secret being 
known that is preying upon her mind and killing her ; nothing 
else.” 

Hope Charteris bowed her face upon her hands, and sat for 
some minutes in silence. 

“I can hardly believe it,” she said, then, ^^and I do not 
know what to do. ” 

“You will naturally be most angry and indignant with her,” 
said Dr. West. “You must not show it. Miss Charteris. When 
she is well and strong again, say what you will to her. Spare 
her until then. You must be gentle and kind. You must 
treat her as One, all merciful and all divine, treated Magdalene 
of old, or she will die, and there will be two lives lost. ” 

“ Heaven help me,” said the elder sister. 

She looked so lost, so bewildered, so confused, that Dr. West 
pitied her. 

“You do not know, you cannot understand, what this blow 
is to me,” she said. “Florence is the idol of my life. I am 
seventeen years older than she is. I was the oldest of a large 
family ; she was the youngest ; they are all dead but us — fath- 
er, mother, brothers, sisters — all but we two. Florence was 
only four when my mother died, and she gave her to me. 
Years ago I loved, and was beloved. I sent away the one I 
loved because I would not part with little Florence. I have 
given up all my life to her and for her. Now you tell me this, 
this of the child I nursed — the child who said her prayers at my 
knees until four months ago. Oh, shame ! oh, horror ! it can- 
not be true. My little Florence ? Great Heaven ! she is but 
a child ; I have her broken toys at home. ” 


i8 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


Then her strength failed. She flung herself on her knees, 
and wept such tears as women weep but once in life. 

“That is right/' said the doctor ; “you will feel better." 

“Please Heaven," she cried, passionately, “that I may never 
feel again hope or joy, pain or sorrow ; this has riven my heart, 
and hardened it forever." 

“ Nay, not so. She has but you in the world, poor child. 
If you forsake her — if you are hard or cold, or unkind to her — 
she will be driven to desperation and kill herself.” 

‘ ‘ She comes of a race that has never known such dishonor, " 
cried Hope Charteris. “I would have died a hundred times 
over rather than that this should have been. " 

“We must remember another thing, "said the doctor. “We 
must not judge evil so quickly. We do not know your sisters 
story. Judging from her most lovely face, she is very unlikely 
to have gone astray in the way you are believing. She may be 
married. " 

* ‘ But how could she deceive me so ? Why hide either her 
love or her marriage from me?" 

“She will tell you all, in time,” he said, kindly. 

Then he spoke to her again of the value of kindness in dis- 
tress, of womanly pity and womanly pardon, of mercy and love, 
until the hard look died from her face, and she said : 

“ Poor Florence ! Poor child !" 

“You will comfort and help her," he said, “for Heaven's 
sake, and from pity to her youth and weakness." 

“ I will," she replied. 

“Go to her now," said Dr. West, “and to-night I will call 
again. In the meantime, I shall look out for very quiet lodg- 
ings that will suit you.” 

“How very good you are,” she said. “ It was fortunate for 
me that I heard your name. " 

“My eldest daughter is just of your sister's age," said the 
doctor. “I will be a friend to your sister, that Heaven may 
bless my Clarice, and keep her from harm. You will remem- 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


19 


ber, Miss Charteris, that, humanly speaking, your sister’s life 
lies in your hands. If you are kind and patient, there is hope 
for her ; if you are the reverse, she will most surely die. ” 

‘ ‘ I shall not forget, ” said Hope ; and, when the doctor had 
gone, she went at once to her sister’s room. 

Florence lay sleeping now. From the whit^ parted lips ^ 
there came plaintive sighs and soft moans that troubled Hope’s 
heart ; it was such a feverish, restless sleep, and the fair face 
there were such deep lines. 

Hope Charteris sat down the bedside, and locked long at 
the young sleeper. 

Only a few months since — it seemed but a few months — and 
Florence was a laughing, happy child. Even now the ring of 
that happy laugh was in her ears. The child used to seek her, 
and clasp those rosy hands round her neck, while she asked for 
her pretty fancies. The very same hands that lay there now, so 
white and listless ; that same white face, with its lines of deep 
anguish, was the one that in its fair young bloom had made the 
sunshine of home. 

The burning anger and indignation with which she had at 
first heard the terrible news died away as she sat watching the 
quivering lip that even in slumber sighed. Beep, unutterable 
pity filled her heart. What tragedy had been going on in the 
heart that she believed to be the heart of a child ? What mys- 
tery lay shrouded in the girlish life that she had believed as pure 
and simple as the life of a flower? Many thoughts came to her 
that half distracted her. Could she ever return to her own 
home among the friends who loved her, among whom her life 
had been passed ? Could Florence ever go back there .? — and 
then the full tide of shame and horror rushed over her. 

Her life had been so calm, so still, so pure. She had heard 
of such tragedies as these, where young lives were blighted, and 
fair heads bowed low, but that such a shadow should fall over 
her home — her lovely, cherished sister — it seemed impossible. 

This young girl, suffering so heavily for her sin, had most 


20 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


cruelly deceived her. She had laid her head on her breast, 
when eveiy thought of her heart must have been given to oth- 
ers. She had kissed her with lip, that must have been yet warm 
with her lover’s kiss. She had laughed her childish laugh, 
when her heart must have been heavy with her woman’s secret 
and her woman’s love. Her little sister, the youngest, best-be- 
loved child. Dear Heaven ! was it possible that, for the rest of 
her life, that bright, young head must be hidden in deepest 
shame ? Only eighteen, and life all ever for her ! — the finger 
of scorn upraised to point at her — her name a by-word of re- 
proach on the lips of men and women. Was it possible to save 
her from that, to hide her secret, to give her one chance of re- 
deeming herself, and even should her sin bar her from the best 
gifts of life, still her fair fame might be preserved before 
men ? 

There came a murmur from the white lips. Hope Charteris 
bent over the sleeper. 

‘‘I am so frightened, darling,” was the pitiful whisper; ‘^so 
frightened, and Hope will die when she knows it.” 

Who was the one she called “darling.?” poor, trusting, help- 
less child. Who had won that pure young heart, and ruined 
the life that promised so fairly ? 

Was it wicked that Hope Charteris cursed him in her heart ? 
Let him be who he might, she cursed the man who had blight- 
ed her darling’s life as a blast of lightning blights a flower. 


CHAPTER HI. 
“can you save me?” 


Suddenly Hope Charteris started. Florence was lying awake 


LADY DAATER^S SECRET. 


21 


looking at her with great, startled eyes ; eyes from which a hu- 
man soul looked out in dumb, stricken anguish that knew no 
words. 

“Where is he?” she cried. 

“Do you mean the doctor, Floy? He is gone, dear; you 
fainted while he was here.” 

She turned her face away, with a low moan ; the last sunbeams 
peeped into the room, and shone on her pale, young face. A 
new soul came to Hope Charteris — one in which there was no 
anger, no indignation ; nothing but charity, love, and pity, that 
were half-divine. She knelt down by her sister’s side, and drew 
the tired head on her breast. The same sunbeam fell then on 
her face, and it wore a light, such as one can fancy the faces of 
ministering angels wear. 

“Floy, my darling,” she whispered, gently, “you may trust 
me; I am sister and mother, too — remember that.” 

The haggard face was raised to hers. 

“lam not worthy that you should love me, Hope. You do 
not know — ah, woe is me ! — ^you do not know, or you w'ould 
take your kind arms from me, and you would throw me far 
away. ” . 

“No, I should not, Floy; love is full of mercy, dear, and of 
tenderness, that is true love which comes from Fleaven, such as 
mine for you.” 

The white hands were clasped again, as though the pain such 
words caused could not be borne. 

“Lay your head here, Floy, nearer to me. When you w'ere 
a little girl, and came to me in your childish troubles, you used 
to nestle just so, in my arms. Do not turn from me, darling, 
I want to tell you something. I know your secret, Floy!” 

The unhappy girl sprang up with a cry of anguish. She 
tried to tear herself from the clasp of those kindly arms, but 
Hope held her, and would not let her go. 

“You must listen to me, Floy, my darling. I know it. Dr. 
West has told me ; and see, I am not angry, only sorry, love ; 


22 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


SO sorry, so grieved for you, and I shall help you. Do not try 
to get away from me. You are my little sister, remember, my 
precious treasure, and my precious charge. If all the world 
were cold and cruel to you I should love you still. ” 

So she whispered loving words of comfort and hope; she 
kissed the white face ; she caressed with her kindly hands the 
waving masses of hair. 

‘‘My little Floy, always my best-beloved, trust in me.’' 

And soon she felt the white hands clinging to her as they had 
done years ago, the faint moaning ceased, the cold lips touched 
hers, and Hope Charteris knew then that a ray of comfort had 
found its way into the desolate heart. 

“Dr. West has told me, Floy, that soon^ very soon, you will 
have a little child of your own.” 

“And you do not hate me, Hope.? You will not throw me 
off, and forsake me.?” 

“Never, my darling. We had one mother; for her sake I 
will tafce care of you, now that you need care. I will not even 
judge you. Perhaps you are mariied , Floy; do tell me — do 
trust me; it must be.” 

There was an agony of entreaty in the elder sister’s face — a 
wistful tone in her voice, that the hardest heart could never have 
withstood. But Florence made no reply. 

“You have had a secret and a mystery in your life, while I 
thought every page of it was clear to me as an open book. Let 
there be no more secrets, Floy. Trust me, dear ; you shall find 
the most faithful of friends in me.” 

“I cannot,” sobbed the girl, “I cannot trust you, Hope. 
My secret is my own ; it must die with me. Oh, sister, if I 
might but die.” 

“Can you not tell me who is your husband, or lover, Floy?” 

“I cannot.” 

“Will you not tell me when and where I can see him? He 
has been very cruel to you, very, poor child.” 


LAD Y DAMER ’ ^ SECRE T. 


23 

‘‘I cannot tell you anything of him, Hope — not one word. 
Do not ask me. ” 

Miss Charteris looked perplexed. 

“I must ask, and must know, Floy,” she said, gravely. 
‘‘You are but a child. Alas! that on the face of earth there 
should be found one base enough to lead a child astray. i^You 
mud tell me, Floy 1 for justice must be done to you, if you are 
not married, ^^erhaps, if I urged him, he might marry you ; 
and, if you are married, he must own that you are his wife. 
Do trust me, little sister.^ 

“I cannot,” said the young girl. *‘Hope, people talk about 
death ; why, death would be light and easy for me to bear in 
comparison with what I have suffered ; and, perhaps, the great- 
est pai'^ of all is refusing to tell you my secret when you are so 
kind to me.” 

“It is for your own sake more a thousand times than for 
mine,” said Hope, wistfully. 

But no further answer came from the pallid lips, only that 
she could not — she could not. Seeing that all was useless. 
Miss Charteris ceased to ask the question, and Florence covered 
her face with her hands. 

“Hope,” she said, “I am not a hardened sinner. If any 
repentance could undo what my folly has done, I repent me ; 
if the bitterest sorrow could wash away my fault, surely my sor- 
row is bitter enough. Have patience with me. For many 
months I have not been myself. I have been obliged to talk 
and laugh while eveiy fiber of my heart ached. I have had to 
hide all the anguish and dismay that was eating my very soul 
away, and the effort has driven me mad. I am lying here talk- 
ing to you, yet I am mad. I seem to be miles away — ^your 
voice comes to me like a distant echo ; some part of my being 
seems to be away and on fire. I know that I am going mad — 
can you save me?” 

Miss Charteris was greatly alarmed. A great crimson flush 
scorched the face that had lately looked so deadly pale, the 


24 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


lovely violet eyes were terribly bright, the little hands burned as 
with fire. 

“Floy,” she said, gently, '^you must try to control yourself, 
or you will be very ill. See, love, we cannot talk about the lit- 
tle one as happy women talk of their babies ; but do try to re- 
member that the frail, feeble life will depend on you. Your 
baby will have no one to love but you. ” 

She saw plainly enough that the sense of her words did not 
reach Florence; she was already on the borders of that dark 
dreamland so full of horror. It was a great relief to her when 
the door opened and Dr. West reappeared. 

“She looks very ill,” he said, bending over the half-uncon- 
scious girl. “ Miss Charteris, this looks like brain-fever. She 
has borne the weight of her secret too long. Make all haste to 
remove her.” 

“Have you found lodgings for us?” she asked, calmly. 

“Yes; in a quiet, pretty farm-house, outside Riversmead. 
Forgive me. Miss Charteris, I have taken rooms there for a mar- 
ried lady whose husband is from home, and I have called your 
sister Mrs. Maxwell. I could not have found lodgings for you, 
if the truth had been known. ” 

“I am very grateful to you,” murmured Hope Charteris. 

It was new to her, this sense of shame and gratitude — she 
who had been so independent of all favors — who had never yet 
required help. 

* ‘ I think the place excellently well suited for you, ” he con- 
tinued. “The mistress of the house is old, very reserved, and 
not at all sociable. No fear that she will gossip about her 
lodgers. ” 

Again Hope Charteris thanked him earnestly. Then the 
kind-hearted doctor drew from his pocket a little parcel. 

“I know your trouble and "bewilderment are too great for 
you to think of anything, so I have remembered this for you.” 

He took Florence’s burning hand in his, and placed a plain 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 25 

gold ring on the third finger. The girl was quite unconscious 
of the action. He turned abruptly to Miss Charteris. 

‘ ‘ Y our sister is in great danger, ” he said ; “it will be a strug- 
gle for life. 

A few minutes later and Miss Charteris had paid the bill and 
given directions for a cab to take her and her sister to the rail- 
way station. 

“Drive to the station,” said the doctor. “Even if any one 
here should feel the least curiosity about you, it will be satisfied 
then, for they will think you have left Riversmead. Then take 
a cab from the station, and drive straight to the Mill Farm. 
You -will find everything ready for you, and you will find the 
greatest attention, because I have told them that Mrs. Maxwell 
is a patient of mine.” 

“ I am thankful that we have found such a friend, ” she said, 
gently. “Do you think it will hurt my sister to remove her?” 

“No,” he replied, “ghe isjnpjt consdous, but she wiU ^0 
wherever you lead her.” 

His heart ached again as he helped the devoted lady raise the 
young girl and wrap her shawl so gently around her. He 
thought of that beautiful story of old — of the man who fell 
among robbers, and of the good Samaritan who rescued him, 
all unconscious how much he resembled that good Samaritan 
himself. 

There was too much bustle and activity in the house for any 
one to pay much attention to the departure of the two ladies. 
If the younger one stumbled and seemed to walk like one 
asleep, no one heeded it. 

The little journey was made in safety. They drove to the 
railway station. It was growing dark then. They lingered 
until another train came in, then mingled with the stream of 
passengers, called another cab, and drove to the Mill Farm. 

The evening shadows lay on the long, gray fields, the birds 
had ceased singing, the flowers had gone to sleep ; a pretty 
ran bubbling through the meadows, widening into a 


26 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


bioad stream when it reached the Mill Farm. It was so plea- 
sant, so calm, so still, that the tears rose to Hope s eyes, the in- 
voluntary homage of a true soul to the Great Creator. Far oif 
in the woods a nightingale was singing, a few golden stars were 
peeping in the bright, blue sky. 

Oh ! could it be that all the beauty of this fair earth was to be 
hidden from her! Why was it that the sin and folly of man lay 
like a funereal pall over the loveliness that came from a Hand 
Divine.? She looked at the face resting on her arm. Florence 
saw nothing of the beauty^ — the night stars and the singing 
brook, the lofty trees, and the long, gray fields were all shut 
out from her. She was in the dark dreamland, where reason 
does not enter. 

The fever flush had deepened. They were not coherent 
words that fell from the crimson lips. It was nothing but one 
repetition that it would kill Hope. Hope would most surely 
die if ever she knew it. 

Hope Charteris was thoughtful when they reached the great 
farm. It was so still, and so silent, so fragrant and calm. 
Mrs. Leybourne, the mistress of the house, met them and 
showed them to their rooms. 

*‘My sister is very ill,” said Hope, with tears in her eyes. 

“So Dr. West said. How young she looks; far too young 
to have been married ; why she is but a child I” 

Hope’s heart sank at the words.' She was, indeed, but a 
child I 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


27 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE PRICE OF SIN. 

Two days later and Dr. West sits by the young girl’s bedside 
without the least hope that she can live until sunset. The 
pretty, square room is brilliantly lighted by the sun ; they have 
done their best to shut it out by drawing the white blinds and 
long lace curtains. Outside, the world was a dream of beauty 
— the sun shining, the birds singing in the trees, the clover 
dancing in the wind, the hawthorn blooming on the hedges. 
Inside, the picture was one of desolation and misery. 

On the pretty white bed, that looked like a nest for some 
delicate bird, lay Florence Charteris. The terrible fever had 
partly exhausted itself, the wild delirium had ceased ; few words 
dropped now from the restless lips, and they could not be dis- 
tinguished. Dr. West bent down to listen. 

“The old story,” he said to Hope, who stood near him. 
“ ^My baby is dead ; my baby is dead.’ What can have given 
her that idea.?” 

He held his fingers on the delicate wrist, counting anxiously 
the feeble pulsation ; then he moistened the lips with a cordial 
that stood near. 

“There will not be any change yet,” he said to Miss Char- 
teris. “I told the woman to be here by twelve. ” 

“It seems hard,” she replied, “and yet it is the best plan — 
the only chance. If my poor sister never recovers. I would far 
rather the child were kept away until it is old enough for me to 
adopt without attracting attention. If she recovers, for her own 
sake, doctor, I shall never let her know the child is living. She 
may always believe it dead. ” 


28 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“It does seem hard,” said Dr. West. “Poor little, helpless 
child. ” 

Miss Charteris looked at him with tears in her eyes. 

“lam sorry, too,” she said, simply; “but what can I do? 
If my poor Florence recovers she may in time take her place in 
society among her friends, without her secret ever being known ; 
then in time she might learn to be happy. All this has hap- 
pened in a strange place, among strange people ; it can never 
come to light, and she may in the years to come be happy.” 

But Dr. West looked very grave. 

“The care of a child. Miss Charteris, is a duty Heaven gives 
to every mother; it cannot be lightly laid aside. Your love for 
your sister blinds you.” 

“Do not say so,” she cried, eagerly. “You do not know; 
indeed you do not know. Suppose, now, we keep this poor 
little creature with us. Florence will never live to care for it. I 
:im sure the fact of her disgrace being known will kill her. The 
shadow then could never be raised from her life. She could 
never be happy again. ” 

“ Heaven forbid that I should judge harshly or hardly,” said 
Dr. West, “but it seems to me your sister must pay the price 
of her sin. If that price be the loss of all respect and esteem, 
she must suffer for it. One cannot lose virtue and have the re- 
ward of virtue. Miss Charteris.” 

But she cried out in a passion of tears that her sisters fair 
name must be preseived, whether she lived or died. Seeing 
that Dr. West looked yet more grave, she said : 

‘ ‘ At least for a time ; let it be so for a time. When I find I 
can tell my sister, and provide for the child with safety, it shall 
be done. Until then, oh ! do trust me, doctor. All that money 
can do for it shall be done.” 

“No money can buy a mother’s love or care,” said the doc- 
tor, sadly. 

“Only for a time,” she said ; “a very short time. I promise 
you that I will do my best then, when she grows stronger. There 


'LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 29 

is a knock at the outer door ; that will be the woman you told 
me about, doctor. 

“Yes, that is Mrs. Elster, and you may trust her implicitly. 
Miss Charteris. She is quite a young woman — a widow ; her 
husband was guard of a railway train, and was killed a few 
months since in an accident. She has one little infant two 
months old, and is anxious to have the care of another. ” 

“Is she kindP’Vasked Miss Charteris. 

“You can judge for yourself,” replied the doctor. 

A comely, pleasing young woman entered the room. She 
was neatly dressed in deep mourning — her widow’s cap con- 
trasted strangely with her young face. She entered with hushed 
and silent step, for she knew that death was very near. 

Miss Charteris liked her at once; the kind, comely face 
pleased her. 

“Dr. West tells me,” she said, “that you are willing to un- 
dertake the charge of a little babe — is it so V’ 

A pleasant smile, and modest, respectful answer. 

“My sister, Mrs. Maxwell, is dangerously ill; even should 
she recover, it will be long before she can undertake the care of 
her child. I can trust it to you. ” 

Then hliss Charteris went across the room, and returned with 
a little infant wrapped in a shawl. Mrs. Elster took it from her. 
No need to ask questions — no need of references, no need of 
inquiries ; the very way in which she took the babe in her arms, 
laid its little, soft cheek against her face, and kissed it, spoke 
volumes in her favor. 

“It is a little boy,” said Miss Charteris, “and I should like 
him, when he grows old enough to understand a name, to be 
called Verner. I have my own reasons for it. ” 

A few more words as to terms, which more than satisfied Mrs. 
Elster. 

“I shall come every week to see the child while I remain in 
Riversmead,” said Miss Charteris. “After I go. Dr. West v/ill 


30 


LAD V DAME SECRET. 


Still be kind enough to superintend it. You will be very kind 
to him, Mrs. Elster?’' 

‘‘There is no need to promise/’ was the reply ; “I am thank- 
ful enough for the charge. ” 

Miss Charteris uncovered the little face. The large, bright 
eyes were open, and something in the tiny, helpless figure 
touched her heart. She kissed the pretty face. 

“Good-by, little stranger,” she said, and Dr. West liked her 
the better for her tears. 

“Let his mother see him,” said the nurse ; and before either - 
sister or doctor could interfere, she had taken the little one to 
its mother, and laid it by her side ; but, alas ! the large violet 
eyes opened for one half moment, then closed again. 

“My baby is dead,” wailed the white lips, “my baby is 
dead.” 

“Poor thing,” said the tender-hearted nurse; “how very 
young she is. ” 

After a few more words, Mrs. Elster went away, taking the 
baby with her. Miss Charteris followed her to the door, and 
placed a bank-note in her hand. 

“My sister was taken ill quite unexpectedly, ” she said, “and 
away from home. Will you buy all that is needful ? I will 
send more for the same purpose.” 

Then she returned to her sister’s side, and it never occurred to 
her how great was the wrong she had done, or how impossible 
it is in this world ever to hide a sin. 

Dr. West was still bending anxiously over his patient. 

“There is no improvement, ” he said. “ It is now two nights 
and three days since she has slept. Unless she sleeps soon, she 
will not see the sun set.” 

Hope Charteris knelt by the bedside, and prayed with pas- 
sionate words that the young life might be saved — spared and 
saved. She was so young, and fair, and loving — it was too 
grievous that she must die. 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRET, 3 1 

** My life,” she cried, would give my life a thousand times 
Over for hers !” 

Yet the time was to come when the life she prayed for became 
a burden greater than could be borne. 

She was startled by a sign from the doctor — a gesture asking 
for silence. She must not weep or sigh aloud, for sleep had 
come to the sufferer at last ; the restless lips had ceased to mur- 
mur, the white eyelids were closed, the clenched fingers relaxed 
their hold. 

“She is asleep,” he said, gently; “now come here. Miss 
Charteris, and take your place. Keep this cordial by you ; 
when she wakes, give her some of it. Do not speak to her, do 
not let her speak to you, hush her to sleep again. 1 must go 
now, I have many patients waiting for me.” 

He withdrew so noiselessly and so gently that the sleeper was 
not disturbed ; then Hope Charteris took his place, and watched 
Intently the faint, feeble breathing of the young girl. The 
morning passed, and she never quitted her place. 

Mrs. Leybourne came in with entreaties that she would take 
some dinner ; but Hope only signed for her to go away. The 
bright, sunny afternoon passed, and still that calm, peaceful 
sleep continued. Once — only once — the pale lips were opened, 
and the white eyelids quivered. Hope touched her caressingly, 
and she slept again. 

Not for any need of her own would the devoted sister move. 
She was hungry and thirsty, but she knew that every moment 
of that deep, quiet sleep was priceless. It was almost evening 
when Florence moved at last ; then she opened her eyes, and 
the bright fever-fire had left them ; they were dim, as with long 
suffering and bitter tears. 

“Hope,” she whispered faintly, and, trembling with joy, 
Hope bent over her. 

7’here was a puzzled, wondering expression on the pale face. 

“Hope,” she said again, “where am I? where have I been? 
I forget.” 


32 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“Do not talk, Floy, drink this, and sleep again.” 

Obediently enough she drank what was brought to her, then 
lay down again. Miss Charteris saw plainly that she had recov- 
ered her consciousness, but not her memory. 

“Hope,” said the faint voice again, “where am I.? Are we 
in a strange place.? I do not remember it.” ■■sanEa 

Then her sister, looking at her, saw a sudden change come 
over her pale face, a sudden cloud of horror, a burning flush as 
of shame. 

“I remember,” she gasped. “Oh, Hope! am I dying.? I 
remember, Hope — is my baby dead?” 

“Yes,” she replied, bending over her. “Do not mourn over 
it, Floy, it is a thousand times better so. ” 

“Did I never see it? Shall I not see it in my dreams?” 

“You never saw it, Floy.” 

She lay quite silent for a few minutes, then she caught hex 
sister’s hand. 

“Hope,” she said, “do not be cross with me. Will you tell 
me what my baby was like?” 

An expression of pain came over Hope’s face. 

“I will try, dear,” she replied. “He had bright dark eyes, 
and^ pretty little mouth. It was a very sweet baby face, and 
just on the temple there was a mark that resembled a rose. ” 

She listened in silence. 

“This is my secret,” she whispered to herself, “my secret 
that I must keep.” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


33 


CHAPTER V. 

CONVALESCENCE. 

Three weeks passed, and Florence Charteris was able to sit up 
at the window of her pretty little room, and look over the sunlit 
fields. That terrible illness had altered her very much. The 
beautiful face was not less lovely, but the character of it had 
completely changed ; the girlish brightness that had been its 
chief charm was gone forever. 

Hour^after hour she sat, her eyes wandering over the peaceful 
landscape ; never smiling, never speaking ; as completely dead 
to everything in the world as though she herself had left it. 

All unseen, Hope watched her unremittingly, wondering what 
secrets were locked in that childish heart — wondering whether 
it was love, hope, remorse, sorrow, or bitterness that so com- 
pletely changed the bright, tender nature. 

“She is only a child,’’ thought tthe elder sister — “a child in 
heart, in looks, and in years ; yet woman’s love, and it may be 
woman’s guilt, are hers. ” 

“Hope,” asked the young girl one day, “will you take me 
to the place where my little baby is buried ? I should like to 
see it ; I should like to let some of my tears rain on it. I never 
saw him, but it would ease my heart to see his little grave. ” 

“We will see about it when you are stronger,” was the eva- 
sive reply. 

How could she show the grave when there was no grave to 
show } 

She had given up asking any questions. Dr. West warned 
her that the least excitement might be fatal — might bring on a 
relapse of fever that would destroy her. He advised her, if her 


34 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


young sister offered her confidence, to receive it with great gen- 
tleness and sympathy ; but if she did not offer it, not upon any 
account to force it. 

She had carefully attended to the doctor’s wish; she had 
avoided all conversation except upon trivial and cheerful sub- 
jects, but here was an opening she thought it advisable to seize. 

“Floy,” she said, gently, “in another fortnight you will be 
strong enough to return home. ” 

“Home — to our own house in London.?” asked the young 
girl, and her sister detected the ring of pain in her voice. 

“We have no other home,” she replied, gravely. “Floy, my 
darling, I do not ask you to trust me, perhaps in the years to 
come you may give me your confidence.” 

“You are very good to me,” murmured Florence, gratefully. 

“ I do not know,” was the reply. “I cannot tell, Floy. I 
stand to you in the place of your mother. Perhaps I should 
have been harder with you; there are those who will tell me it 
was my duty to have turned you adrift on the wide world ; there 
are others who will tell me that I ought to have forced your 
secret from you, and made it public. I have done what I 
thought to be the best If 1 have done wrong. Heaven forgive 
me!” 

Florence made no reply. Hope continued : 

‘ ‘ Perhaps, as I have said, in the years to come you may trust 
me. How I wish to impress upon you that, unless you desire 
to die a social death, you must keep your secret 1 If any rumor 
of it once gets abroad, if any suspicion of it ever floats, even 
ever so dimly, before men’s minds, remember you are socially 
dead. People may forgive you, they may say in time that you 
were young and easily misled, but, believe me, Floy, the place 
you forfeit you will never regain.” 

“I know it,” said Florence Charteris. “I understand it” 

“There,” continued Hope, “you see the force of what I say. 
You are very young, you arc very lovely; and I have thought 
many proud thoughts for you. I have been ambitious for you ; 


LADY DA MED. ’ 5 SEC RE T. 35 

I have said 'to myself that your beauty and your talents would 
win for you a great position. I have lived for you, Floy.” 

“And now all your hopes are blighted,” said the young girl, 
with a sigh. 

“Nay, not so ; that depends entirely on yourself. If this had 
happened in London, all our world must have known it; if it 
had happened where you have been visiting, in like manner it 
could not have been concealed. But now I believe it possible 
for that secret to be kept, and never divulged. ” 

Something like a gleam of comfort crossed the lovely young 
face. 

“Your little child has been born here in a strange town, 
where no human being knows us ; no one has taken the least 
notice of us except Dr. West, and he will never speak of it. 
There is nothing to connect Mrs. Maxwell, of the Mill Farm, 
with Florence Charteris, the admired and popular belle. 1 do 
not see how it is possible for it ever to be known. ” 

“Thanks to you,” said the younger sister. 

“You must do your part, Floy; there must be no pining 
away, no despondency. You owe me a debt; you must pay it 
by doing your best to undo all this wretched past, and make 
your way in the world. You must pay it by preserving your 
secret, for your name's sake and our honor’s sake. Will you 
tr}% Florence.?” 

The fair young face was raised timidly to hers. 

“I had not thought of this, Hope; my only belief was, that 
from the day you first learned my — my unfortunate secret, life 
would end for me. I have never thought of saving my fair 
name, or living after this. I felt so sure to die. ” 

“I can well imagine that, but now it is all over. No one 
knows anything about it; the little one is dead ; when once we 
leave Riversmead we shall never return. I say it is quite possi- 
ble for you to take your place in the world again, as though 
nothing had happened.” 


36 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“Do you think so?” was the thoughtful reply. “Do you be- 
lieve, sister, that such a secret can be kept?” 

“Yes,” said Hope, “such secrets are kept, most unfortunate- 
ly, every day. ” 

“I am nervous and superstitious. It seems to me, however 
faithfully we keep it, that sooner or later it must all be made 
known. ” 

“It will not, it cannot, Floy. If we had servants or gossips 
about us, it might. Dr. West will never speak of it ; this wo- 
man — this Mrs. Leybourne — knows nothing of us ; besides, she 
is going to America soon. Life holds this chance for you yet, 
Floy — keep your secret, and it will never be known ; follow my 
plan, go home with me, meet all our friends as though nothing 
had happened, then, in the years to come, you will forget it 
yourself; and, if you have done wrong. Heaven will forgive 
you.” 

Florence Charteris raised her eyes to her sister’s face. 

“Hope,” she said, “do you not think it would be better and 
wiser for me to bear now the consequences of my fault?” 

“No ; a thousand times no,” was the hasty reply. 

“Suppose we hide it now,” she whispered, “and then in the 
future, that you think so much of, it comes to light, I should 
kill myself, Hope, I should not live through the shame.” 

“It cannot come to light, I have taken every precaution; 
Floy, believe me, it will never be known.” 

“Of course, if my poor little baby had lived, I should not 
try to keep it secret, for I would have had him with me, should 
the whole world have abandoned me for it. I would have 
worked for him and lived for him ; now he is dead, nothing 
matters. ” 

Hope’s face grew white as she listened to the words. 

“Now he is dead,” she resumed, impatiently, “ there is no 
need for saying anything about it.” * 

And the proud woman, in the depths of her heart, thanked 
FIcaven that she had decided as she had done ; that Florence 


LADY DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 37 

knew nothing of the living child, who would have been a terri- 
ble obstacle to all her plans. 

“ I may rest assured, then, Floy, that you will be your own 
bright self again; that you will do your best to second my 
efforts for your worldly advancement, and that when once we 
have left this terrible place it shall never be mentioned between 
us again — it shall be a dead letter, a blank page.'' 

And again Florence Charteris looked doubtfully in her sister's 
face. 

“Can earth hide a secret, do you think, Hope.? I fancied 
the very trees would whisper it, the birds tell it in their songs, 
the waves chant of it, the wind moan over it. Sister, has there 
ever been a secret kept? Men have done murder in the dark— 
unseen, they thought, and long years aftenvard, when the habit 
of tranquillity had gained upon them, their secret has been em- 
blazoned in red letters both on earth and sky." 

“Not in every case ; earth does hold its secrets, secrets that 
are never revealed. " 

“I have read, too, of women who have built up a fair super- 
structure on sin — who have taken an honorable name, held high 
positions, laughing to think how safe their secret was, or thank- 
ing Heaven in shuddering dread that from all shame and dis- 
grace before their fellow-men they were spared. Suddenly, a 
mine has sprung beneath their feet, and the world has laughed 
to remember that it ever called them good. Such a fate might 
be mine, Hope." 

“Never," said the elder sister. “Your secret is known to so 
few. I would stake my life on Dr. West's fidelity and silence, I 
can equally answer for my own ; Mrs. Leybourne is going to 
America ; who could betray you, Floy, even if they would ?" 

“I do not know. I shall be afraid even of the rustling of, 
the leaves, and the whispering of the wind. I shall see a proba- 
ble accuser in every stranger I meet." 

“That is a nervous feeling that will pass away as you grow 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


38 

Stronger. I shall never Voluntarily renew the subject after this 
morning, but I shall consider you bound to me in all honor, 
Floy, to grow blooming and beautiful again, to second me in 
all that I do for your welfare.” 

The beautiful lips murmured an assent, the beautiful eyes 
wandered over the trees, and there came to neither sister a 
warning of the future in which the secret they believed so safely 
buried would start from the ground and confront them, beating 
down the fair structure raised by the pride of one, and the beau- 
ty of the other. 

No warning; the summer skies smiled on, the green trees 
waved in the wind, the flowers bloomed, and the birds sang. 
No warning ; they believed earth would hold a secret, and rested 
in that belief 


CHAPTER VI. 

A BLANK PAGE. 

Six weeks afterward the two sisters bade adieu to the Mill 
Farm. They would have remained longer, - but Mrs. Ley- 
bourne was impatient to start. The furniture and stock of the 
farm were to be sold, and then she was to set sail to rejoiri her 
son, who was prospering in the New World, as he had never 
done in the old. 

“So much the better,” thought Hope Charteris to herself 
“When she has left England, I shall know that we have noth- 
ing to fear.” 

Dr. West called sometimes in his capacity of friend. When 
he came to say farewell, Florence had gone out, walking slowly 

r’ 


LAD V DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 39 

for the first time through the fragrant clover meadows that sur- 
rounded the farm. 

“You have not told her yet that her child is living.?” he said 
to Miss Charteris. 

“Not yet,” she replied. “I am waiting until she is stronger 
both in body and in mind.” 

“What arrangements have you made for the little one ?” 

“Mrs. Elster will take charge of it for the next few months. 
I thought of taking my sister to the sea-side. I shall send what 
I consider a very ample and handsome allowance for the child.” 

“And then,” said the doctor. 

“Then,” she continued, half impatiently, “when my sister 
has quite recovered, and I have broken the intelligence to her, I 
shall make some fresh arrangements. Perhaps take the child 
and nurse to live with us.” 

“I trust you,” he said. “You have shown yourself such a 
devoted sister — so calm, so sensible, so brave — that I am sure 
you are utterly incapable of wronging a little and most helpless 
child.” 

“Certainly I am,” she replied. “I pray Heaven to do to me 
as I act to him. He shall want for nothing that either love or 
affection can give him. And now, doctor, that you have heard 
my solemn promise, I want yours.” 

She looked at him very anxiously, her face growing pale, and 
her eyes dim. 

“ I want you to pledge me your word as a gentleman and a 
Christian, that my sister’s secret shall never pass your lips. ” 

‘ ‘ Professional men never reveal such things ; there would be 
an end of all confidence if they did so.” 

“That is not enough for me,” she replied, “I want more 
than professional secrecy. As I told you before, doctor, we 
come of a good old race, and sooner than my poor young sister 
should have to encounter the frowns of the world, the scorn of 
women, the pity of men, the condemnation of all ; sooner than 
she, young and sensitive, should suffer all that, 1 would take 


40 


LAD Y DAMER ’ ^ SECRE T. 


her away where human eyes should never rest upon her more. 
I have thought over everything, I have tried to realize every pos- 
sibility, and I have come to this conclusion: that if you promise 
to keep our secret it can never be revealed. 

He shook his head doubtfully. 

“I have never known such a secret kept. Miss Charteris,” he 
said ; ^ ‘ however, I will do my part. ” 

“Give me your solemn promise,” she said, impatiently. 

“I give it you solemnly as I know how. I promise you be- 
fore Heaven, never, unless at the request of yourself or your 
sister, to mention one word of what has happened. ” 

“Now I shall be at peace,” she said, with a^great sigh of re- 
lief. “There remains yet one more difficulty ; will you tell me 
how I am to thank you .? I tremble when I think of what 
would have happened had we fallen into other hands than 
yours. Our debt of gratitude is one that can never, never be 
paid.” 

At the same time she placed in his hand a folded slip of 
paper. He opened it, and found a check for an amount that 
made him open his eyes in sheer wonder. 

“I cannot take this, Miss Charteris,” he said; but she 
laughed, and told him he had done for them what money 
could never repay. 

“I may see Miss Florence,” he said, “to wish her good- 
by r 

“Yes, and remember, doctor, that although she has not 
trusted in me ^et, I am sure she is married. I shall never be- 
lieve differently. She was too proud, and too good to have Ic -u 
herself.” 

‘ ‘ I think it very probable myself, ” said the doctor, as indeed 
he did. 

All he saw of his lovely young patient convinced him that she 
was one of the last in the world to do wrong for wrong's sake. 

“She may have been duped, deluded, decehned, tricked, but 
she has never, willingly and willfully, courted dishonor,” the^ 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


41 


doctor had said to himself more than once; ‘‘that I will 
swear. 

At that very moment she entered the room, looking so deli- 
cately lovely that good Dr. West could not help starting. She 
blushed, then turned very pale. 

‘ ‘ I am to say good-by, and I am heartily pleased to find that 
you can do without me,’’ he said. 

“You have been very good to me,” she replied ; “so good 
that I shall never be able to thank you. I did not know the 
world held kind and good men like you. ” 

A thousand words rose from his heart to his lips, but he ut- 
tered none of them ; he longed to warn her, to put her on her 
guard, to advise her to trust in her sister, and yet, like many 
others who feel deeply, he had not the power of uttering one 
syllable. 

So they shook hands, bidding each other farewell in mute 
silence, looking at each other. Who shall say whether in life 
those two ever met and looked at each other again ? 

“I have your address,” said Dr. West to Miss Charteris; 
“59, Clyde Terrace, Hyde Park. I shall hope to hear you 
have reached home in safety. ” 

“I shall not fail to write,” replied Miss Charteris, and then 
they parted. 

“Hope,” said Florence, “you have not kept your word ; you 
have not shown me my baby’s grave.” 

“Not this time,” replied her sister, quickly; “you are not 
strong enough to bear emotion. Some day, perhaps, we may 
return, and then you shall see it. Be guided by me, Floy. ” 

The next morning they left Riversmead ; to the last the 
young girl’s eyes were fixed on the old church spire and the 
green trees. 

“Hope,” she whispered, I remember seeing that spire as we 
came along in the train, and my heart was sad as death. I 
prayed all the time, when I could move my numbed, mute lips 


42 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


SO stiff and so Cold — I prayed that I might die ; I had no other 
wish. ” 

‘‘That is the last time you are ever to refer to this sorrowful 
past ; let it be a blank page, on which not even memory shall 
read a word. In your own mind bid it adieu. 

Hope Charteris kept her word. The subject was not men- 
tioned between them again. The name of Riversmead or of 
Dr. West never crossed her lips. It was as though it had never 
been. 

They were warmly welcomed home ; but great was the dismay 
of Miss Charteris’ old friends to hear that she was going to sell 
No. 59, and leave London. In her own mind the idea was, 
that she would destroy all trace of her identity, that she would 
completely separate the old life from the new, and leave no clew 
as to her whereabouts In thinking over her sister’s early life 
she could never find the least clew to the mysteiy that had puz- 
zled her. Only of one thing could she be certain ; whoever it 
was that loved her, be it lover or husband, must reside in Lon- 
don, for Florence had never been out of it until she paid that 
visit to the North. Looking back she could remember that her 
sister had shown a great liking for solitaiy^ walks ; she remem- 
bered many occasions when Floy had risen early to go into the 
garden or the park, and she, thinking no harm, had smiled at 
the fondness for the fresh air. 

Whoever he was — lover or husband, friend or foe — the man 
her sister loved must live in the great city. They must not meet 
again until at least she knew the truth. The better and wiser 
plan was to keep her young sister continually under her eye 
while they were in London, and to gist her away as soon as pos- 
sible. 

Perhaps Florence noticed that she was kept under continual 
surveillance ; if so, she made no remark upon it. When the 
elder sister took the younger into her confidence, and told her 
she had sold the house and intended to travel about for a change. 


LAD Y DAMER ’ J SECRET. 43 

Florence made no reply. A listlessness that nothing ever varied 
had fallen over her. 

Eveiything succeeded just as Miss Charteris wished and hoped. 
She sold her property, reinvested her money, went from one 
watering place to another, watched her sister regain health and 
beauty, then she said to herself : 

“Now we are safe. Mrs. Leybourne is in America; the doc- 
tor has given me his oath, even should he try to renew his ac- 
quaintance, he will find we have left our old home, and will give 
up the idea. For the rest I am certain. I may rest now, thank 
Heaven ! Oh, thank Heaven ! we are safe. * 

Some weeks passed away, and Dr. West bethought himself of 
his promise to visit the little child left under such peculiar cir- 
cumstances. He went up to the pretty little cottage where Mrs. 
Elster lived. What was his wonder at finding it closed and 
empty. He inquired among the neighbors and was told that 
Mrs. Elster had left Riversmead. 

‘ ‘ How long had she been gone ?” 

“Three weeks and more.'' 

“Where was she gone.?" 

“That no one knew. She had not said ‘good-by' to any of 
her old friends. One day she went for a broker, sold all her 
furniture, paid her few debts, and the next day was gone. " 

He asked, had any strangers been to see her, and was told 
none. 

It was useless to ask any more questions. None of her neigh- 
bors or friends knew anything about her. Fie inquired at the 
station, and found a porter who had seen her go, but no one 
knew to what place. 

“Miss Charteris has done this," said the doctor to himself. 

He wrote at once to the address given, and after a few days 
the letter was returned to him through the Dead-Letter Office. 
Miss Charteris lived no longer at 59 Clyde Terrace, Hyde Park. 

Nor could he hear any more of them ; they had vanished as 
completely from his path as though they had never crossed it ; 


44 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


and there were times when he felt tempted to ask himself if it 
were not all a dream. 

While Hope Charteris exulted in the success of her plan, and 
said to herself a hundred times each day that they were safe. 

Months and years rolled on until the memory of all these 
events grew dim. 


END OF INTRODUCTION. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


45 


CHAPTER I. 

AVONWOLD. 

Could all the superlatives in the English language convey any 
idea of the grandeur of the Darners of Avonwold, of their long 
descent, their historic name, the fame of their men, the beauty 
of their women, the wealth derived from their vast estates, the 
halo that surrounded them, that seemed to cut them off from 
the common herd ? 

The Darners of Avonwold, to begin with, were gentlemen. 
They did not come over with William the Norman, for they had 
already made a name in English history, when that celebrated 
person brought Norman civilization to bear upon Saxon blunt- 
ness. 

They belonged to the grand old Saxon race ; they had Saxon 
virtues and Saxon faults. They had Saxon loyalty, which made 
them true to their God, their king, and their country. They 
had Saxon bluntness, which made them hate all falseness, de- 
spise all meanness, scorn all hollow assumption; they had 
Saxon honor and honesty, which made them truest friends and 
noble foes. Saxon strength of speech, which made the word of 
a Darner sacred as the oath of another man. 

The Darners had their own especial boasts. They could show 
a long family record, in which there was not the name of one 
disloyal man, or light, false woman. j 

“As true as a Darner,” had passed into a proverb. They 
could read from their own family annals the stories of brave men 
had died fighting for king and country ; of brave women. 


46 


LADY DAMER’S SECRET. 


spotless as they were fair, who had done good service in times 
of war and persecution. 

There were those who weixt so far as to say that England could 
boast no better name than theirs, and yet, the Darners had their 
faults. They were px*oud, haughty, reserved — they were espe- 
cially intolerant of all weakness — a Darner would pardon a 
deadly injury more easily, a thousand times, than he could par- 
don a lie or a trifling act of deception. To deceive a Darner 
was to lose his friendship. It was an unpardonable sin. Any 
amount of stern, hard truth could be spoken without offense. 

They were a veiy superstitious race, that had endless legends 
belonging to them. Avonwold was full of them ; every tower, 
every turret, every tree had its story ; every shady nook its 
legend ; every dark chamber and winding staircase its ghost. 

They were too much inclined to believe in signs and omens. 
A large and beautiful terrace ran along the western side of the 
hall ; every Darner devoutly believed that before any terrible 
event befell the family, the sound of rain drops was heard pat- 
tering along the terrace. They believed it sincerely, as we be- 
lieve the sun rises and sets. Superstition seemed out of place 
in the nineteenth century, and helped to make the Darners 
more celebrated than ever. 

Avonwold has descended in unbroken succession from fathei 
to son. The Darners all married early ; they always married 
good and beautiful women, caring little for fortune ; the only 
points on which they were particular being good descent and 
stainless reputation. No Darner ever married a flirt or a co- 
quette ; their wives were women fitted to be the mothers of a 
race of heroes. 

Karl, Lord Darner, the present master of Avonwold, had, in 
some of these respects, departed from the rule of his forefathers ; 
he had not married young. He was now in his thirty-fourth 
year, and was only just returning from his wedding tour. 

Lord Darner had one sister married — the Countess of Oak- 
leigh — a very beautiful and accomplished woman. His two 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


47 


younger brothers were dead ; his cousin, Audrey Darner, was 
heir presumptive ; and Audrey Darner had married the most 
ambitious, scheming, intriguing ^yoman in England. Mrs. 
Darner — who was now, with her husband, on a visit to Avon- 
wold — had no great pretentions to beauty She was clever, fond 
of clever people, ambitious as Lucifer, and, withal, fond of her 
husband. 

She had most foolishly encouraged some vain hopes that Lord 
Darner would never marry, and that then her husband would 
succeed. All the Darners married before they were twenty-five ; 
if he intended to marry at all, she argued, he would have mar- 
ried when the others did. As year after year passed on her hopes 
increased. It was a fatal blow to her when, in his thirty-fourth 
year, Karl, Lord Darner, announced his marriage with a young 
and most beautiful girl. 

“Who would have thought that a man like Karl would have 
the Darner failing for beauty?’' said Isabel to her husband. 
“For my part, though I know he has a perfect right to please 
himself, I am sure I shall detest the woman.” 

At which Audrey laughed, and told his wife that he fancied 
she would make a very good hater if she tried ; to which dubi* 
ous compliment Mrs. Darner replied that she should certainly 
try. 

It was a beautiful June evening on which our story opens. 
The flag is flying from the tower of Avonwold ; for Lord Darner 
and his young wife are expected home. 

Such an evening I The glorious sky is full of rose colored 
clouds ; the sunbeams had never been so warm and bright — 
they fell on the calm, deep lake, where the water-lilies slept, 
until it looked like a sheet of burnished gold ; they fell on the 
pretty fountains, that sent their perfumed spray high into the 
sunlit air ; on the thousand flowers, whose breaths were odors 
from every clime ; on the superb gardens and pleasure-grounds ; 
on tSe lawn, green as emerald and smooth as velvet ; on the 
gri'id old cedar trees, that stood like giants always ready to de- 


48 


LAD Y DAMER SECRE T, 


fend ; on the magnolia trees, whose huge white flowers filled the 
air with rich and luscious perfume. 

They fell on the grand old mansion of Avonwold. Looking 
at it, these lines of Mrs. Hemans came irresistibly to ones 
mind : 

“The stately homes of England, 

How beautiful they stand 
Amid their tall, ancestral trees.” 

There was no pretense about Avonwold. It was one of old 
England’s proudest homes. A home fit for kings or princes — 
grand, yet beautiful — old, yet lacking nothing of modern luxury. 

A poet should describe it, who could tell how its lofty towers 
and turrets were clad in green ivy ; how its deep oriel windows 
were perfect in their beautiful arches ; how the stately entrance 
was built of purest marble, and the tall, fluted columns of the 
same. How the halo of chivalrous ages seemed to linger over 
it ! for it had been built in the time when men considered archi- 
tecture ah immortal art, and not merely a contract between 
builder and brickmaker. 

Travelers and tourists come from all parts of England to see 
Avonwold, and they return in love with the past, slightly con- 
temptuous of the inartistic, monev-making present. 

Men have riot time in these days for such buildings as Avon- 
wold. The eyes linger in charmed surprise over the magnificent 
proportions, the rich and delicate tracery, the perfect symmetry 
and grandeur of the whole. 

Rumor says that Lord Darner has spent a small fortune in re- 
furnishing and redecorating Avonwold ready for his beautiful 
young wife, and rumor says, also, that nothing could be too 
luxurious for my Lady Darner, whose serene, queenly loveliness 
is unequaled. 

On the smooth, emerald lawn a little group is assembled — • 
Audrey Darner and his wife Isabel, who were asked to meet the 
bride ; old Lady St. Julien, a distant relative of the Darners : 
and the Rev. Mr. Trench, Vicar of Avonleigh. 


LADY DAAfER'S SECRET. 


49 

They were all there, by Lord Darner's invitation, to meet trie 
bride. Lord Darner had written himself to Mrs. Damer, r:- 
questing her, as a great favor, to superintend herself all the ar- 
rangements for the reception of Lady Damer. 

“I know Avon wold is looking its best,” he wrote, '‘and I am 
glad of it, for I wish her to be favorably impressed by it.” 

Which little paragraph Isabel read aloud to her husband, with 
many sneers. 

“She must indeed be ‘somebody,’ if Avonwold does not im- 
press her,” she said. 

And now as they sat ^pon the lawn, the same thought oc- 
curred to her. ^ 

“My Lady Damer 'must be pleased with Avonwold,” she 
said ; “I never remember to have seen it in greater beauty. ” 

Lady St. Julien looked around. 

“It is certainly a lovely spot ; I always say it is the finest resi- 
dence in. Lngland. How warm and sheltered this lawn is. I 
did not expect to find the grass so perfectly dry to-d^^” 

“Why not.?” asked Mr. Damer, with a smile; “the news- 
papers are beginning to talk about prayers for rain.” 

Lady St. Julien looked up at him with a puzzled face. 

“Why, surely, Mr. Damer, you must have heard the rain last 
night ; it woke me several times pattering on the terrace. I v,-as 
very thankful to hear it.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Damer looked at each other with dismayed 
faces. 

“You heard rain drops falling on the terrace. Lady St. Julien, 
last night?” asked Isabel Damer. 

“Certainly, and so did every one else,” was the prompt repl}^ 

“Your room looks on what is called ‘My Lady’s Terrace?’’’ 
SiSked Mr. Damer, and again husband and wife looked at each 
other. 

“You do not remember the Avonwold legends,” said Isabel 
Damer, “that before any great misfortune happens to the fami- 
ly, the sound of rain drops falling on the terrace is heard by 


50 


LAD V DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 


some member of the family? No misfortune has ever over- 
taken the Darners without this warning. ” 

Lady St. Julien looked discomfited. 

‘'My dear Isabel, you should not talk about misfortunes on 
the very day my lord brings his new wife home."' 

. “lam not accountable for the legends of the family,” she re- 
plied, “neither can I help believing in them. It was an unfor- 
tunate thing that you should have heard that sound last night 
of all nights in the year. ” 


CHAPTER II. 

THE WHISPERING LIMES. 

What were they whispering about, those grand old trees? 
They had been the great glory of Avonwold for many genera- 
tions past. No one knew their age. They stood there as giants 
guarding a fairy home. 

Stand underneath their spreading shade some summer’s day 
when the wind is high, and you will hear such music as makes 
your heart thrill. Sometimes the tall heads are all bent togeth- 
er, and they speak in a mournful, weird voice, as though they 
knew some awful story of a murder done in the wood, and were 
wondering when men would find it out. They seem to be tell- 
ing secrets, not translatable to mortal ears — secrets borne on the 
wings of the wind, and only told by the silent, dreamy, watch- 
ful trees. There was one thing about these blossoming limes at 
Avonwold : they had whispered to each other of love, hope, sor- 
row, death, separation, joy, and despair, but their green leaves 
had never murmured the words shamt or disgrace. They had 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


51 


watched fair-haired young warriors go forth to meet death with- 
out a smile ; they had seen bright-faced girls leave home to share 
the lot of a soldier or sailor husband ; they had drooped their 
long branches as the corpse of a young maiden was carried in 
mournful procession from among them, but they had never 
whispered to each other of dishonor. 

Dishonor and Avonwold — what had the two in common? 
Who ever named them together? That grand old race, that 
stately home, the birthplace and burial-place of some of the 
greatest of England’s heroes. 

They were worth watching, these old limes, on this night 
that my lady came home. They formed a long and shady grove 
at the end of the lawn. They could be seen from the western 
windows, and heard, when the wind was high, all over the 
house. Did they know, on this eventful night, that my lady 
was coming home ? 

The sunset cast a beautiful golden glow over Avonwold ; the 
roses and lilies had stopped awake to see her, the white jessa- 
mine was peeping out with its starry eyes, the birds were sing- 
ing, the fountains playing; one could have fancied earth looked 
fairer in honor of my lady’s coming home. 

The little group in the garden were growing anxious. 

“There have been so many railway accidents lately,” said 
Lady St. Julien, “that I feel quite nervous when I have friends 
traveling. ” 

“I should never feel afraid of any Darner being killed in a 
railway accident,” said Isabel. “It seems tome, after all, a 
very plebeian kind of death.” 

There was a general dissent, and Mr. Trench began to enum- 
erate the numerous and most illustrious victims who had per- 
ished from accidents by rail. 

“Not at all the death for a Darner,” she persisted. -“If I 
may be allowed such an expression, they always die in state. 
Hark ! there is the carriage; you see I am right.” 

It was my lord and my lady. They could see the carriage 


52 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


through the trees — they could hear the distant chiming of 
Avonleigh church bells. 

“Thank Heaven they are here, all safe and well,” said Au- 
drey Darner. “I wonder what the bride is like.?” 

“We may prepare for something startling,” said Lady St. 
Julien. “Mr. Auber told me that he had met them on the 
Continent, and that Lady Darner was, without exception, the 
loveliest w^oman he had ever seen. ” 

They heard the carriage stop, and went with one accord into 
the house to be there to welcome the bride. 

■ Now look at the limes; they are standing quite still — not a 
\eaf moves ; there is not a thrill in the branches. Silent — mo- 
tionless, yet every leaf seems to be an eye. 

The sunset has cast a lurid red shade over them — they are no 
longer green, the giant stems, the mighty branches, the thou- 
sands of leaves are dyed red in the crimson sunset. So red and 
so silent they stand, while the bells ring, and the whole house- 
hold assembles to meet, to greet, and to welcome the bride. 

She looked up in silent wonder at the magnificent old man- 
fion, then turned to her husband with a smile. 

“I had no idea Avonwold was so large or so beautiful,” she 
mid. 

“I know no place in England that surpasses it,” he replied. 

They went up the broad marble steps together. The great 
entrance hall was opened wide, and she saw that it w^as lined 
with servants in livery. 

“Many brides have passed this threshold,” said Lord Darner ; 
“none of them more fair, more loved, or more welcome than 
you, my wife.” 

She smiled, and thanked him. Did nothing rise from that 
threshold to greet her? No ghost of a dead love? no memory 
of a dark, passionate face that had once made light and sunshine 
for her ? no memory of a low, deep voice W'hose whispered words 
had filled her heart with music and her soul with love? no fe- 
vered dream of anguish? no memory of an hour of mortal 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


53 


peril, when a little head lay for a brief space on her bosom, 
and then vanished from her sight? no specter of fair fame tar- 
nished, of honor grown dim ? Did none of these things rise 
from the threshold to greet Florence, Lady Darner, as she en- 
tered her new life, and her new home? 

Who shall say ? One may read the stars, read the sermons 
written in babbling brooks — but who can read that greatest of 
all mysteries a woman s face? Eyes and lips have smiled before 
now, while the life blood was dripping from a broken heart. 
The brow has been fair and smooth, the face calm, while the 
soul half dead with agony has made no sign. Men are wise 
and clever, gifted, keen, and strong — yet few among them can 
read the book half-human, half-divine, ^‘a woman’s face.” 

Lady Darner looked around with a well-pleased smile. Her 
beautiful face seemed to fill the hall with light and sunshine, her 
violet eyes, so calm and serene, had in them nothing but pleas- 
ure. The lovely mouth, with its proud, sweet lips, wore a gra- 
cious smile. She acknowledged the greeting so respectfully 
offered her, and passed through the entrance hall, followed by 
her admiring husband, leaving behind her warmest admiration 
and lavish praise. 

‘ ‘ There has been many a beauty here, ” said one old servant, 
“but she is the queen of them all.” 

“We have a few friends assembled to meet us,” said Lord 
Darner to his wife ; the sound of voices reached her ears, and 
she had looked inquiringly at him — “Audrey Darner and his 
wife. You remember my speaking to you of them? I hope 
you will like Mrs. Darner.” 

By this time they had reached the drawing-room where the 
little party had assembled to meet them. Another moment 
and they were gazing with delighted eyes at the loveliest Lady 
Darner who had ever reigned at Avon wold. 

Lord Darner, in few, well-chosen words, introduced his wife 
to Mrs. Darner and Lady St. Julien ; then to Audrey and Dr. 
Trench. Isabel’s welcome was stiffly and coldly given. In the 


54 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRE T. 


beautiful stranger she only saw the probable mother of sons who 
w'ould inherit Avonwold, leaving her husband out of the succes- 
sion altogether. 

Lady St. Julien kissed the lovdy face. 

“My dear/' she said, “if all brides were like you, I should 
never be tired of seeing them.” 

“We are late,” said Lord Darner ; “that is the first dinner 
bell. You will not have much time for dressing, Florence.” 

‘ ‘ I must make good use of the short time I have, ” she re- 
plied. 

Isabel turned to her with a cold smile. 

“Is your name Florence?” she asked. 

“Yes,” replied Lady Darner, smiling. “I hope you like it.’" 

“We have never had the name in our family before,” she re- 
plied. ‘ ‘ I am not sure whether I like it or not. It is roman- 
tic, and reminds one of a three-volume novel.” 

“I hope it will have pleasant associations for you before 
long,” she said, with' such winning grace. 

Isabel’s cold face relaxed. 

“ I do not doubt it, ” she said. ‘ ‘ Shall I show you to your 
rooms, Lady Darner? Your maid will be there, in all proba- 
bility.” 

The two ladies left the drawing-room together ; the gentle- 
men remained to exchange a few words in praise of the bride. 

“You waited some years, Karl,” said Audrey Darner ; “but 
we must all own you have not waited in vain.” 

“Thank you. Thank you. Dr. Trench; your kind wishes 
touch me ; of course, we cannot foresee events, but I think I 
am justified in saying that I am the happiest man in the world, 
and have the happiest life before me.” 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


55 


CHAPTER III. 

MY LADY DAMER. 

Mrs. Damer, whose keen, critical eyes could judge so quickly 
and so well, looked with no little anxiety as the drawing-room 
door opened again, and Lady Damer, dressed for dinner, en- 
tered. 

“ I shall soon see to what style she is accustomed,” thought 
that astute lady. 

But when the mistress of Avonwold entered, even her keen 
eyes could discover no flaw. There was no oveydoih^ of mag- 
nificence — no attempt at grandeur. Her toileh lik^ herself, 
was simply peerless. She wore a dress of white sillf'; her beau- 
tiful neck and shoulders gleamed marble-white beneath the 
white lace that covered them. She wore a band of pearls in 
her beautiful, golden-brown hair, and a bracelet of pearls on 
one rounded arm. There was nothing to mar the exquisite 
taste and purity of this recherche dress, it harmonized so well 
with the lovely face. 

Isabel Damer, looking at her, was obliged to confess that she 
had never seen a face one-half so fair — words could not describe 
it ; they are weak and inapt to paint such delicate and marvel- 
ous beauty. 

There is a face something like it in one of Georgione's most 
famous pictures, hanging in a gallery in Rome. A fair, queenly 
face ; the brow low, with golden-brown hair rising from it like a 
crown ; straight, clear brows, delicate as though marked by an 
artist’s pencil ; violet eyes, whose expression no one save one, 
and he the loved one, could ever fathom ; proud, yet gracious ; 
full of fire and passion, so seldom shown; eyes that look as 


LADY DAAIER^S SECRET. 


5 ^ 

though they were always turned upon another world no one else 
can see; long, dark, silken lashes, that vail the fire and hide the 
tenderness; perfect features; a lovely mouth; haughty, yet 
sweet lips, that can command and promise, that can denounce 
and plead, caress and threaten — little dimples hide around it, 
the chin perfect in shape ; the whole face exquisite in color, 
with a faint rose-leaf bloom, that sometimes deepened and again 
grew paler. 

Nature has so favored some women, making them master- 
pieces of loveliness; fate often mars what nature has done, by 
giving them unhappy lives. 

Isabel Darner could find no fault with Lady Florence ; her 
voice was ‘ ‘ low and sweet, ” her laugh like the silver chime of a 
bell. 

Nor could she find anything to criticise in her manner. She 
looked very young, but she was perfectly self-possessed, perfectly 
at ease. She took her place at that magnificent table as though 
she had been accustomed to sit there all her life. She was as 
courteous, as graceful, and as attentive to guests as though she 
had been in the habit of entertaining them for years. 

It was a very pleasant dinner — the lovely, graceful hostess 
seemed intuitively to understand what topics of conversation 
each one preferred. “High life,’' with Mrs. Darner; “Flome 
affections,” with Lady St. Julien ; the “Used-up state” of 
everj’thing in general, and himself in particular, with Audrey ; 
“Church politics,” with Dr. Trench. 

Her husband listened with charmed ears. How clever and 
brilliant she was. How fortunate he had been to find this love- 
ly, peerless wife. 

Dinner and dessert were both over, yet the sunset lay golden 
on the lawn. Lady Florence turned to her husband. * 

“Of all hours in the day,” she said, “this is the most deli- 
cious, and I love it best.” 

“Then you shall enjoy it,” he said. “I will show you cur 
Avonwold trees, Florence, there are none like them in any other 


LADY DAA/ER'S SECRET, 


57 


part of the world. Isabel, will you come? It is not ccld, Lady 
St. Julien, will you venture?'' 

“Yes,” she replied, “I like the lawn. Lord Darner. I never 
see such flowers and trees anywhere else. ” 

A few minutes later and the whole group were once more out 
upon the emerald lawn. The sky was covered now with crim- 
son clouds, and the strange red light yet lingered on the lime 
trees ; the birds were singing their vesper hymn, and the flowers 
were falling asleep. ' 

Lady Florence uttered a little exclamation of surprise as she 
saw the beautiful trees. Lord Darner smiled at her delight. 

“How grand they are,” she said, “and what a strange hue 
the sunset throws over them. Oh, Karl, let us walk down that 
grove — there is nothing on earth I love so dearly as trees. ” 

They crossed the lawn, and stood under the cool, leafy shade. 

“How Hope will admire this,” said Lady Florence; “it will 
be her favorite spot, I know. ” 

Seeing that Isabel’s cold, curious glance w^as turned upon her, 
Lady Florence said : 

“ Hope is my sister, Mrs. Darner; she has been sister and 
mother both to me. She is coming to live with us.” 

Isabel’s face grew colder and paler, 

“Another interloper,” she thought, “another to share what 
might have been all our own with us. ” 

They stood at that moment just at the entrance of the lime 
grove ; a sudden, brisk wind arose and rustled among the trees, 
the mighty branches moved in the wind ; it seemed as though 
every little leaf cried out with a sudden and loud voice as Lady 
Florence walked for the first time between them. She looked 
up at the shimmering, rippling foliage with a smile. 

“Those leaves are all talking,” she said; “they are saying, 
‘Welcome, welcome home!’” 

Her husband laughed at the pretty fancy, and as he laughed 
another wind made the branches shudder. 

What were they saying ? It was well for him he could not 


LADY DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


58 

hear. Well for the man of high descent and noble race, well 
for the bearer of a stainless name that he did not know what the 
wind was telling the lime trees, and they were shuddering to 
hear. 

“I hope, Lady Darner,” said Isabel, “that you are not fanci- 
ful or nervous.” 

“lam not nervous,” she replied ; “I cannpt say that I am 
not fanciful.” 

“Then you will have a pleasant time of it. Avon wold is full 
of ghosts. I am not sure' but that this very grove is haunted.” 

‘ ‘ I have no fear, ” said Lady Florence. 

Mrs. Darner turned to her kinsman. 

“Lady St. Julien gave us all a terrible fright this afternoon,” 
she said. “She declares that she heard the sound of rain drops 
pattering on the terrace last night. ” 

All the smiles died from Lord Darner’s handsome face. Lady 
St. Julien made a gesture of silence, which Mrs. Darner took 
care not to see. 

“That is another Avon wold superstition,” she continued. 
“But, indeed, this is no idle legend — it is a real fact.” 

‘ ‘ What is the fact .?” asked Lady Florence, looking from one 
to the other. 

“I cannot tell you how far back the legend dates,” said Mrs. 
Darner, fixing her keen glance on Lady Florence’s face, “but it 
is this : before any great misfortune occurs, or any disgrace 
threatens, or any dark cloud lowers over Avonwold, the sound 
of falling rain drops is heard on the terrace. Strange, is it not.? 
nevertheless it is quite true.” 

“And this sound was heard last night.?” asked Lady Flor- 
ence, in a low voice. 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Darner; “I felt quite nervous at first, 
but we must hope that the legend, for once, will be untrue.” 

Was it the shadow of the limes that made my lady’s face grow 
suddenly so white — even the lips lost their color. 


LAD Y DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


59 

‘‘Last night,’/ she repeated, “the night before I came home 
— is it an evil omen? I am frightened, Karl.” 

Lord Darner looked very angrily at his accomplished kins- 
woman. 

“It would have been kinder not to have told my wife this 
story, Isabel ; every one is not gifted with the same strong nerves 
you possess. ” 

A little thrill of delight gladdened Mrs. Darner’s heart — she 
looked with affected anxiety at the pale young bride. 

“I beg a thousand pardons. Lady Darner. I never dreamed 
of frightening you. Why should you feel nervous? There can 
be no possible connection between the warning always given to 
the Darners— and 

“Certainly not,” said Lord Darner, soothingly. “I cannot 
comfort you by saying : ‘ Do not believe it, ’ for, unfortunately, 
the omen has always proved true ; but, my darling Florence, 
this warning is not for you. ” 

She looked gratefully at him, but he saw that her face was 
still deadly whjte. 

“Your coming home,” he said, “ is an honor and glory to 
the Darners — there can be no misfortune connected with it. 
Only Heaven knows what the future holds ; but of one thing I 
am quite certain, it holds nothing but what is bright and beau- 
tiful for you, Florence. ” 

“ I am so very sorry I named the incident, ” said Isabel, com- 
placently. “It was very thoughtless of me, and I shall not for- 
give myself until you look blooming and smiling again. Lady 
Darner.” 

She made a great and evident effort to shake off the gloom 
and depression that had fallen over her. 

“I shall not allow you to hear anymore Avonwold legends,” 
said her husband, with a smile. “You are not brave enough 
for them. ” 

“They are so terrible,” she replied, with a slight shudder. 

“Nay,” he continued, “what sweeter sound is there in Na- 


6o 


LAD V DA.MER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


ture than the pattering of rain drops. I listen to it always with 
pleasure ’’ 

“Not when it foretells sorrow or disgrace.” 

“I did not mean the ghostly rain drops — I have never heard 
\ those. And, Florence, there has often been sorrow at Avon- 
wold, deepest, bitterest sorrow; but I thank Heaven, standing 
here this calm, sweet summer’s night, I thank Heaven that dis- 
grace has never been near us — the word is not known among 
us. Now come and see our fernery. My mother. Lady Clare 
Darner, had a perfect passion for ferns — do you care for them 

She answered “Yes,” and tried to look interested; but Isabel 
Darner, always watching, saw that the lovely face was long in re- 
gaining its color, and that the interest she took in the ferns was 
but feigned. 

Later on that evening she found Lady Darner in the conserva- 
tory quite alone. Coming upon her quite suddenly and unex- 
pectedly, she saw the beautiful face of the young wife wet with 
tears. 


CHAPTER IV. 

MRS. DAMER’s ideas. 

“You may laugh, Audrey; of course, you always do laugh 
at what you are pleased to call my discoveries. Wait and see. 
If I am not right this time, I will never pretend to either wit or 
wisdom again.” 

“Women are all alike,” said her husband, carelessly ; “they 
cannot keep from speaking and thinking evil of each other ; it 
seems to be inherent in them. ” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


6l 


“I do not say that I think m’l of her, ’ retorted his wife, 
quickly; “you are going too far. 1 merely say that I am sure 
she has some mystery or secret.” 

“What does it matter to us if she has.?” he replied, lazilyi 

“It may matter nothing at all, or it may be something so se- 
rious as to make your succession certain after all. ” 

“Isabel, you talk arrant nonsense,” said her husband, angri- 
ly. “Just imagine the consequence if Lord Darner heard 
you.” 

“If Lord Damer were even near me I should not speak at all 
on the subject,” she replied. “I am talking to you, Audrey, 
and though you may laugh and sneer as much as you like, the 
time will come when you will say, ‘my wife was quite right.’” 

Her persistency rather impressed him. 

“After all,” as he said to himself, “some of his wife’s prophe- 
cies had turned out to be quite correct — why not this?” 

He felt just a lazy, indifferent wish to know what she had to 
say. 

“Perhaps you are right. Bell, after all. lam not quick at 
reading people. What is your opinion of this lovely lady?” 

A smile of quiet triumph played round Mrs. Darners lips. 

“I agree with you, she is very lovely; but I say, ‘All that 
glitters is not gold,’ and, for all her youth, her beauty, and her 
fascinations, I firmly believe there is a mysteiy in her life.” 

He looked slightly relieved. 

“Nothing worse than a mystery? Now, tell me. Bell, what 
makes you think so?” 

“You were not with us, under the limes, when I told Karl 
that Lady St. Julien had heard the infallible warning. She did 
not understand it, and I told her the story of the legend. ” 

“Well?” said her husband, seeing that she made a long 
pause. 

“If any one had told me that story quite suddenly I should 
have been, perhaps, a little incredulous, a little impressed, and 


62 


LAD y DAMEL ’ SECRE T. 


certainly very much interested ; but I should never have felt 
afraid." 

‘‘Was Lady Darner afraid?” he asked. 

“Indeed she was ; her face grew perfectly white with fear, and 
though she tried hard, she could not recover herself. Now I — 
being, I flatter myself, a sensible woman — asked myself this 
question : ^Why should Lady Damer be afraid?' If her life is 
all clear as a brook at noonday — if she has nothing to conceal, 
nothing to dread — why should she fear ?” 

“She might simply have been nervous and impressionable,” 
he said, thoughtfully. 

“Nonsense, Audrey. I know what fear is, and I saw it in 
her face. I am not mistaken — it was deadly, livid fear, and 
not nervousness or anything else. I tell you. Lady Damer has 
a something in her life.” 

“Take that for granted, ” he said; “what do you imagine 
that something to be?” 

“7^(2/ is the question,” she replied, with great vivacity. “A 
Woman may have a hundred secrets in her life that no one 
guesses. She may have married for money, perhaps, loving 
some one else all the time. She may have loved some one who 
is dead ; or, as I said before, there may be a darker secret — per- 
haps one that will make your succession sure.” 

“I will not have you repeat that!” he cried. “It is not 
probable. Why you should say such things of her, I cannot 
imagine. She is so young — quite a child.” 

“She is twenty-four,” replied Mrs. Damer, sharply; “though, 
I must acknowledge, she does not look more than eighteen.” 

“Then you must see the absurdity of your suspicions. 
Twenty-four; she has not had time for any great mystery, 
Bell.” 

“You will see. Another thing struck me. She has married 
into one of the oldest families in England. She has everything 
her heart can wish for ; her, sister, the only relative she seems to 
have, is coming to live ■»vith her. You would think, naturally, 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


63 

that her heart was overflowing with happiness ; yet, last night, 
she had only been three minutes alone, and when I went into 
the conservatory to her, she was standing in the most dejected 
and forlorn of all attitudes, and her eyes were full of teers. 
Again I asked myself what was the subject of her solitary mus- 
ing, that it should cause her to shed tears ?” 

Then Audrey Darner laughed. 

“Perhaps it was from sheer excess of happiness,” he said. 
“I have heard of such things. Very delicate, sensitive, refined 
natures ” 

‘ ‘ Do not talk nonsense, Audrey, ” interrupted his wife, impa- 
tiently. “Men have every sense except common sense. I shall 
say no more. Those who live the longest will see the most; 
only I tell you that I shall lie in -^vait. If there should be any- 
thing to find out, I will back myself against all the detectives in 
Scotland Yard. I know how to wait — they do not” 

. And with these words Mrs. Darner walked away ; her hus- 
band gave a sigh of relief to think that the conversation so un- 
pleasant to him, was ended at last 

. While her guests thus discussed her. Lady Florence Darner 
was making the tour of the magnificent home where she was 
now mistress and queen. Her surprise and delight were un- 
bounded. The superb rooms, with their treasures of art, their 
numerous pictures — the great picture-gallery itself surpassed by 
few iu' England — all charmed her. 

There, on the walls, hung the portraits of the Dameis. 
Ladies, fair of face, and fairer still by fame. There, too, last 
of ail, hung the portrait of Karl, Lord Darner. The hand- 
some, patrician face shone from the canvas ; near it was a blank 
space. Lord Darner looked at it and smiled. 

“Do you know what that space is reserved for.?” he asked. 

“No,” she replied. 

“For my wife,” he said. “Do you know, Florence, that 
two years ago I used to come here and look at it, and wonder 
if any face would ever be next to mine. I used to wonder if I 


64 


LAD V DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


should ever meet a woman I could love and marry. I used to 
think over all the faces I knew, and try to fancy one from among 
them here, but none pleased me. I never saw a face I could 
love until I saw yours.” 

She raised her lovely eyes to his. 

“Was I your first love, Karl.?” she asked ; “did you never 
care for any one else .?” 

“Never!” he replied. “My ideas are peculiar — perhaps you 
will think them exclusive and romantic — but I only believe in 
one love, and that is the first. There is no other, not true and 
real; it is impossible. First love absorbs all tne romance, the 
devotion, the ideality in man or woman either. That is why I 
value your love so highly, Florence.” 

She did not raise her eyes to his, and the smile that had 
played round her lovely lips died slowly away. 

“You never loved any one until you saw me,” he said. “I 
know that, my darling I I should never have prayed you to be 
my wife, I should never worship you as I do now, but for that 
certain conviction. Now, I think we have seen all that is worth 
seeing ; we have been over three hours, yet you have not even 
entered the western wing ; we must examine that to-morrow. 
You look so pale, my love — have I tired you?” 

“No,” whispered the sweet, musical voice. She was not 
tired, but it was late; “Hope was to be here by three.” 

“It is almost three now,” said Lord Darner. “We will go 
down to the terrace and see if there is any sign of the carriage. 
Now smile, Florence, and bring back that ‘lovely rose-leaf 
flush.’ Where has it gone? I want Hope to see that I have 
taken care of you. ” 

“She cannot help knowing that,” said the young wife, cling- 
ing, with a wistful look on her face, to the strong, right arm that 
was such a shield to her ; “Hope will understand how good you 
have been to me.” 

Another hour and Hope Charteris had been most warmly w'el- 
comed to Avonwold. Lord Darner kissed her white brow, and 


\ ’ 

LAD V DA A/ED ’ 5 SEC RE T. 65 

greeted her with words so kind that they brought the tears to 
her eyes. 

‘‘Welcome home, sister,'’ he said ; “always remember this is 
home for you now.” 

She had been introduced to Audrey Darner, who welcomed 
her in his usual, lazy fashion ; to Mrs. Darner, who looked 
keenly at her, and then avowed to herself, frankly, that in Miss 
Charteris she had most probably found her match ; to Lady St. 
Julien, who was kind to her as to every one else, and told her 
she was heartily pleased that she had come to live with her love- 
ly sister. 

“You must not let the world spoil her. Miss Charteris; she 
is so very beautiful that she is sure to be flattered and indulged. 
Do not let them spoil her. Lord Darner will never be able to 
say her nay. You must be firmer.” 

Hope smiled, and promised to learn to say “No.” 

“A very needful word in this world. Miss Charteris, let me 
assure you,” said Lady St. Julien, “but one that few people 
have the courage to utter. ” 

And then, thinking the two sisters would like to be alone. 
Lord Darner went to his study under the pretense of writing 
letters. 

They stood on the terrace, leaning against the stone parapet, 
looking, both of them, with charmed eyes at the landscape 
around them. Then Hope turned, and looked in her sisters 
face. 

“You have a magnificent home,” she said. “I never 
dreamed that Avonwold was anything like this.” 

“It is very grand,” said the clear, quiet voice. 

“And you are very happy, Floy? Tell me, darling; that is 
all I really care to hear. You are perfectly happy, are you 
not?” 

“Yes,” she replied; “Karl is more than kind to me, I have 
everything my lieart desires. Oh, Hope, do forgive me il I 


66 


LAD V DA MED ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


break your rule this once. Do you think it is safe ? Oh, Hope, 
tell me, is it safe ?” 

‘‘Your secret?’' she replied; ‘^yes, Floy, as safe as though 
each one who holds it lay dead.” 

‘‘Then I am happy, very happy,” said Lady Darner. “That 
was the only care which troubled me. ” 

“Never let it trouble you again, child, it is dead and buried. 
That which is dead cannot speak, you know. ” 


CHAPTER V. 

LADY •FLORENCE DAMER AT HOME. 

A few weeks passed over. Lady Darner began to recover 
from the surprise of the novelty that surrounded her — to feel 
herself at home. All the elite of the neighborhood had called 
upon her. Solemn dinner parties and brilliant fetes had been 
given in her honor, and at each of them she had appeared a 
brilliant and lovely lady — a queen ; the envy of all the young 
ladies and of all young wives. 

Who so happy as my Lady Darner ? Who so beautiful, so 
rich? Who wore such splendid dresses? Who had such mag- 
nificent jewels? Whose face was so fair — whose smile so calm 
and sweet? 

“How I envy you, Lady Darner!” said Geraldine Newsham 
to her one day. “You must have had a fairy godmother; you 
have everything in the world to make you happy.” 

Lady Darner listened with a calm, smiling face. Who knew 
what was in her heart? In good society we do not uncover the 


LAD V DAJfED ’ S SEC RE T. 67 

face of our dead ; we hide it anywhere out of sight. If a sud- 
den pain shot through her heart, as she remembered the deadly 
secret buried beneath the -flowers, Geraldine did not guess it. 

“You are very happy, m.y darling," said her proud, loving 
husband one day, as he watched her coming in, flower laden, 
from the garden. 

There was not a shadow in the radiant eyes raised to his face. 

“Yes, lam very happy," she said. “Why do you ask me, 
Karl?" 

‘ ‘ Because I have never seen a face so calm and sweet, ” he re- 
plied. 

If a pain like a sharp sword pierced her as she thought how 
fully he relied upon her, how implicitly he trusted her, she 
made no sign. 

The largest estate near Avonwold, at least within visiting dis- 
tance, was Hirstholme Castle, the seat of the Duke of Redfern. 
The Duke of Redfern himself was generally believed to be the 
proudest and most exclusive man in England. 

His pride was not like that of the Darners, the reflected glory 
of a great race; he was proud of his money, of his title, of his 
position ; he had constituted himself one of the magnates of 
society; his opinions were received with universal deference; 
people had a fashion of looking up to him, and receiving his 
opinions as unerring laws. 

He put his seal, as it were, upon his grandeur by marrying a 
German princess — not a lady with an empty title of great sound, 
but one of the royal family, whom Europe has honored for 
many generations. 

He had been proud and exclusive before his marriage, but 
afterward he became much more so. He revised his list of ac- 
quaintances — any whose pretensions to ancient nobility were 
doubtful he struck from the rolls at once. He soared higher 
and higlrer ; the whole neighborhood was thrown into commo- 
tion by the visit of a royal duke, a favor that was not so often 
accorded to a subject. 


68 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


That important event occurred about four months after Lord 
Darner’s marriage, and the excitement it caused was intense. 
Who would be invited to meet himr? that was the important 
question. 

' Those who were fortunate enough to receive invitations might 
safely rely upon having the world at their feet for the future ; 
those who did not must content themselves by remaining out- 
side the charmed circle. Lord Darner was too true and too 
noble a gentleman to disturb himself about the matter ; noth- 
ing could take from his nobility, nothing could add to it. But 
he did wonder if the Duchess of Redfern would send cards to 
his wife. It was generally known that Lady Darner came of a 
good old English family, but that she was no aristocrat by birth. 
Lord Darner wondered whether this intelligence had reached the 
mighty potentates of Hirstholme, whether it would prevent his 
beautiful wife from being admitted into the charmed circle. If 
so, of course it could make no earthly difference to the Darners 
of Avonwold who acknowledged them or who passed them by ; 
but if it were so, it would not be altogether pleasant for I.ady 
Darner. He sat thinking over the matter, when IMiss Charteris 
and Lady Florence entered the room. 

She went up to her husband, and laid her hand caressingly 
on his shoulder. 

“What are you thinking of, Karl, that you look so grave.?” 

“I was thinking whether her grace of Redfern v/ould send us 
cards for this very select ball of hers.” 

Lady Florence raised her beautiful head proudly. 

“I should not feel overwhelmed, Karl, if she did so. In my 
opinion, no name, no title, surpasses in dignity ‘Darner of 
Avonwold. ’ ” 

Lord Darner laughed as though he were very much amused. 

“I had no idea you had* so much pride and spirit. Whv, 
you will positively hold your own against the duche.ss ; that is 
what '110 lady in this part of the world has done yet. ” 

“lean hold my own, as you phrase it, against the whole 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


69 


world, now I have your name to shield me,’' she said; and 
again her husband smiled at the delicate flush on her lovely 
face. 

Suddenly that face grew crimson — a sudden memory returned 
to her. JV/ic? was she that she should speak so proudly? 

Both husband and sister saw the change, the slight embar- 
rassment, the transient confusion. Lord Darner thought his 
sensitive wife perhaps feared she had spoken too freely. Hope 
Charteris better understood the emotion that prompted her. 

“It does not much matter,” said Lord Darner, with a smile. 
“Perhaps you are right, Florence; it may be that the Lady 
Darner of Avonwold is on perfect terms of equality with her 
grace of Redfern. However, it is the fashion to consider her as 
the queen of the county. We must follow the popular current, 
I suppose.” 

Even as he spoke, an idea shaped itself in Lady Darner’s 
mind. She resolved to dispute this sovereignty, and usurp the 
place occupied by the duchess. She would be queen of the 
county. She would win such popularity that all homage and 
admiration should be hers. 

In the meantimq, Flope watched anxiously to see if the cards 
were sent. It wanted but this to crown her sister’s happiness. 
She would not like to see her slighted because she did not be- 
long by birth to the nobility. 

A few days afterward the desire of her heart was accomplished. 
A large envelope, with the grand ducal coronet of the Redferns 
came; it contained cards of invitation, not only for Lord and 
Lady Darner, but for Miss Charteris. 

“Shall you go, Hope?” asked the younger sister, raising her 
eyes slowly to the elder’s face. 

“ Yes, I should like once in my life to see something of the 
kind. 1 shall go.” 

Lord Darner showed some little anxiety over his wife’s toilet. 

“Fortunately,” he said, “your jewel cases are in excellent 
order.” 


70 


LJBY DAMER^S SECRET. 


‘ ‘ I shall not wear diamonds, ” said Lady Darner, decisively. 
‘‘The duchess will be sure to display hers; and you know, 
Karl, I intend to be a formidable rival of hers. I do not wish 
to compare with her, but to be a perfect contrast/' 

Again Lord Darner laughed, and declared his young wife was 
developing* new traits in her character every day. It never 
struck hi-u, or any one else, that this restless fever was but the 
result of an uneasy mind, a restless, agitated, unquiet spirit; 
that it was simply an excitement, a means of diversion from un- 
pleasant thoughts. 

“The duchess has never had a rival,” said Lord Darner. 
“She has been absolute queen of this part of the world for so 
long, that she would not understand being disturbed in her 
reign. ” 

“Unshared power is often very dangerous,” said Lady Flor- 
ence, with a strange smile. 

She seemed very intent and anxious over this, her first appear- 
ance at Hirstholme ; going into her dressing-room later on that 
same day, he found her with her jewel cases open, bending 
over them in anxious thought. She looked up at him. 

“Karl,” she said, quietly, “there is nothing here that pleases 
me. A set of pearls always go with white and simplicity, dia- 
monds with magnificence, opals alone have not character 
enough, rubies are too fiery. Do you know what I should 
like 

She raised her lovely face to his with a smile so bright, that 
he felt he could melt his whole fortune into one jewel, and give 
it to her. 

“You shall have it,” he replied, “no matter what it may be.” 

“I should like a set of opals and rubies mixed ; they would 
be unique and very beautiful. I once saw an opal and ruby 
ring ; it struck me as being the prettiest combination of pre- 
cious stones I had ever seen. ” 

“ I will send to Storr & Mortimer's at once,” said Lord Da- 
rner. “You shall have just what you want.” 


LADY DA MED ’S SECRET. 


71 


She thanked him as he liked best to be thanked. 

‘‘I forgot to tell you, Florence,” said Lord Darner. “I 
heard from Audrey this morning; he and Isabel are coming 
over for the ball. ” 

Then a slight frown came over my lady’s beautiful face. She 
did not like Isabel Darner, and she had an instinct!^ feeling 
that in her she had a secret enemy, although a seeming^friend. 

^T should like you to write to-night,” continued her hus- 
band, "‘and ask them, at the same time, to spend a week or two 
here. Poor Audrey is not overburdened with money. ” 

She looked up in her husband’s face. 

‘ ‘ Karl, ” she said, ‘ ‘yesterday I heard some one say that Au- 
drey Darner was your heir presumptive. What did that mean?’* 

“If I had no son of my own to succeed me, he would be 
Lord Darner and inherit Avonwold at my death ; but I hope 
Heaven will bless me, and send me many sons of my own. ” 

‘ ‘ Has he been accustomed to think of himself as your heir ?’* 
she asked. 

“ I should think not. I am not an elderly man. He must 
have thought that I should marry some time. ” 

A look of deep thought came into her face. 

Lord Darner said : 

‘ ‘ What are you thinking about, Florence ? What idea has 
taken hold of you, and made you so grave?” 

“I was thinking,” she replied, slowly, “that if Mrs. Darner 
had ever dwelt upon her husband succeeding you, how much 
she must dislike me.” 

Her husband laughed again. 

‘ ‘ That is not likely. I do not think it possible for any one 
to know you and dislike you. Rely upon it, Isabel treats the 
whole matter philosophically. No man can be expected to keep 
single to oblige his next-of-kin.” 

Yet, despite his cheerful words and his hearty laughter, a cer- 
tain conviction came to Lady Darner’s mind that in her kins- 
woman she had an enemy to be avoided. 


72 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


CHAPTER VI. 

LADY DAMER MAKES ANOTHER ENEMY. 

The great event was to come off at last. It was the evening 
of the Hirstholme ball. Rumor had told many wonderful 
stories of the royal duke. He was so very kind, so affable; he 
seemed so pleased with the people he had already seen. He 
praised the scenery, the county, and was so gracious and cour- 
teous. Those who had not been introduced were longing to 
see him — those who had met him once longed for a renewal of 
their pleasure — those who had not been invited were wrathful, 
and talked bitterly of the prejudice of class. 

Lord Darner had presented Miss Charteris with a magnificent 
dress of pearl-gray satin ; she wore with it ornaments of pure 
gold. Neither overdressed nor old-fashioned, neither affecting 
youth nor caricaturing age, Miss Charteris looked what she was 
— a well-bred, English gentlewoman. Lord Darner looked 
proud of his quiet, sedate sister-in-law. 

No pen could do justice to Lady Darner s toilet : it was simply 
a triumph of art. The dress was of white silk and white lace, 
relieved by dashes of scarlet, so effectively managed that no one 
knew where the white ended or the scarlet began. The flow- 
ing, graceful folds were looped up v/ith geraniums and silver 
bows. The magnificent set of opals and rubies suited the dress 
to perfection. 

No chignon marred the perfect beauty of that queenly heady 
The Rolden brown hair fell in waving abundance on the white, 
polished shoulders. She was simply perfectly lovely, without 
one fault to mar the graceful perfection. 

‘‘Poor duchess !” said Lord Darner, with a comic sigh, when 


LAD V DAMER ’ S SECRE T. 73 

he. saw his lovely young wife. “I suppose, after this evening, 
we may consider her reign ended and Lady Darner’s, begun. ” 

There was more of animation than was usual in the peerless 
face, as Lady Darner saw the brilliant crowd assembled at Hirst- 
holme. Here was an object — this brilliant world to bring to 
her feet. She had wondered as they drove along what the 
duchess would be like. Now, as she stood before her, she 
acknowledged to herself that her grace of Redfern was no com- 
mon foe. 

Although German by birth, she spoke English with a perfect 
accent. She welcomed Lord and Lady Darner most warmly, 
though with a certain courtly, stately grace that never deserted 
her. 

Those two words “courtly grace” embody the whole charac- 
ter of the Duchess of Redfern. She was always gracious, never 
familiar — never what people call kind. She had a way of stoop- 
ing, as it were, to others from a great elevation of her own. She 
was essentially courtly in her manner, as one who had lived 
under the shadow of a throne. 

She was a tall, imperial-looking woman, of queenly presence ; 
not, perhaps, beautiful after the strict meaning of the word. 
She had a fine patrician face, and very beautiful hands and 
arms. She was a woman who, more or less, influenced every 
one with whom she came into contact, simply from her power 
of mind and strength of character. 

Before this woman — royal almost by birth, patrician in mind 
and body, deeply imbued with the prejudices and feelings of her 
class — stood Florence, Lady Darner, ready to do battle with her 
for the social crown she carried., 

A subdued murmur of admiration greeted the entrance of 
Lady Darner. She was so very lovely, her dress was so charm- 
ing, so original and artistic, her whole appearance so utterly fas- 
cinating, that from the first moment she entered the room until 
she left it she was the queen. 

She saw the duke, as in duty bound he opened the ball with 


74 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


her grace of Redfern. Lady Darner saw how frequently his 
glance fell upon her. She knew that he was speaking of her, 
for, after some few minutes, the* duchess looked at her, then, 
when the dance was over, the mistress of Hirstholme brought the 
duke across the ball-room, and introduced him to Lady Darner. 
That was her moment of triumph. She read admiration in his 
face, and received it very coldly ; she made no effort to detain 
him by her side, although he lingered there. She was as state- 
ly, as gracious, and as condescending as the duchess herself 
The duke asked her for the favor of a dance, and she complied. 
People noticed her manner. So far from appearing in the least 
conscious of the honors paid her, it was as though she had been 
accustomed to the homage of princes all her life. 

*‘Your sister-in-law is very beautiful,” said the Duchess of 
Redfern to Isabel Darner. “May I ask what was her maiden 
name? If ever I have heard, I have forgotten it.” 

“She was Miss Florence Charteris,^" replied Mrs. Darner. 

“Ah, indeed ! I do not recognize the name,” said her grace, 
blandly. 

“They are a good old English family, I believe,” continued 
Mrs. Darner, “although not moving in our set at all.” 

The duchess smiled. 

“Lady Darner is very self-possessed,” she said; “yet she 
must be very young, she does not look twenty. ” 

“She is twenty-four,” said Mrs. Darner ; “but she has a very 
young face. ” 

Then the two ladies, sitting slightly apart from the dancers, 
looked at each other, and each read the other’s secret — neither 
of them liked Lady Darner. 

The dislike of the duchess became confirmed that evening. 
She had been accustomed to rule most imperially over the ladies 
of the county — she was the leading spirit in it Her opinions 
were fixed and immutable laws. “The duchess says so,” or 
“the duchess thinks so,” was sufficient When people did not 
agree with her they were silent ; no one ever opj os:d her. 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET, 


75 


That same evering, a group of ladies stood round the foun- 
tain in the conservatory ; the duchess was speaking of the gov- 
erness of some poor schools in which they were all interested. 
She had recently left them to be married, and after living with 
her husband for some months, had left him, and had asked to 
be taken back into her old situation. The duchess was the 
chief lady patroness of the schools, and she was decidedly 
averse to it. The subject was mentioned by Lady Mainwaring, 
but the duchess at once placed her Veto upon it. 

“ I do not wish to seem hard upon my own sex,” she said ; 
“but when a woman cannct live with her husband there is gen- 
erally, I think, the greater fault on her side. ” 

The little group of ladies murmured a feeble assent. Lady 
Darner spoke out bravely. 

“I do not agree with your grace,” she said. “In disputes 
of that kind the fault is generally with the husbands.” 

Had a thunderbolt fallen in their midst, the ladies could not 
Tiave looked more astonished ; the duchess smiled with her ac- 
customed air of bland superiority. 

“You have not, of course, had much experience. Lady 
Darner. ” 

“The experience I have had,” she replied, “teaches me al- 
ways to do battle for my own sex. ” 

“Ah, then you have much to learn. I take the scriptural 
view of women myself.” 

Lady Darner would not have asked the question to have saved 
her life, but another in the group did. 

‘ ‘ What is the scriptural view ?” 

“Perfect, unquestioning, blind submission,” said the duchess, 
who had never obeyed her husband, but ruled him by her strong 
will. “I think half the matrimonial quarrels arise from the fact 
that women are not willing to submit.” 

The little group listened reverentially, as though an oracle 
were speaking. Lady Darner again dissented. 


76 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“There is a point/’ she said, “where submission becomes 
slavishness. Many women fall into that error. ” 

“Not many, I think,” said her grace, quietly, as she turned 
away to go back to the ball-room. 

Then, in some vague, mysterious w'ay, it became whispered 
about that the duchess was jealous of Lady Danier, and that, 
henceforward, there would be two queens in the county instead 
of one. 

The night was one grand triumph for Lady Darner. The 
gentlemen all raved about her. They had seen no one so love- 
ly, so brilliant. The duke himself was delighted with her. Her 
triumph was complete. 

Twice during the remainder of that evening she was brought 
into contact with the duchess. They became acknowledged 
rivals, although two days ago the duchess would have laughed 
contemptuously at such an idea. Mrs. Darner, on the contrary, 
became a firm ally of the mistress of Hirstholme. It was not 
put into words, but between the two there was a contract made 
— an alliance between themselves against the lovely young 
usurper. 

“If you had not told me that Lady Darner had no title be- 
fore her marriage, I should have thought her a princess at least, ” 
said the duchess to her ally. 

Mrs. Darner smiled, and that smile spoke volumes. 

It was late when they reached home. Then Lord Darner 
was enchanted with his wife’s success; he was proud of the'ad- 
miration she had excited ; proud of the homage and deference 
paid to her ; never weary of complimenting her on the spirited 
manner in which she took her part in the world’s great pageant. 

The two sisters were alone in Lady Darner’s room. She had 
dismissed her maid, and was enjoying a refreshing cup of tea. 
Hope sat watching her, wondering at the radiance of that lovely 
face, on which fatigue had left no trace. 

“Hope,” said Lady Darner, “were you pleased with me to- 
night.? Did I bear my pait in the world’s great show well.?” 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


77 


Better than I had expected,” replied her sister,. '•' only in 
one thing I thought you unwise, Floy. You have made an 
enemy of the Duchess of Redfern.” 

“What will that matter, Hope.? She cannot hurt me. Such 
an insufferable woman laying down the law, as though no one' 
else had a right to speak. ” 

“She is superior, by birth and by station, to most of her 
neighbors,” said Hope, gravely. 

“There is no need to show it so very plainly,” said Lady Da- 
rner, haughtily. 

Still Hope looked anxious. 

“I always think it a great pity, Floy, to make enemies where 
one might make friends. Unless I am mistaken, you have two 
now, Mrs. Darner and the Duchess of Redfern. ” 

“Something to stir one up,” she said, with a smile. “Be- 
sides, Hope, what possible harm can they do to me.?” 

“It is better not to provoke enmity.” 

Lady Darner interrupted her with a flushed face. 

“Do you mean that there is danger for me? Oh, Hope, if 
it be so, you have deceived me ; you told me all fear was over — 
dead as my secret itself.” 

She rose from her chair trembling violently, and Hope Char- 
teris soothed her with tender words and loving caresses. 


• CHAPTER VII. 

THE FLIGHT OF YEARS. 

When May put forth her laburnum blossoms and lilacs. Lord 


( 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 * SEC RE T. 


78 

Darner took his wife to London. She had eagerly anticipated 
a season there, and that season was for her a brilliant and mag- 
nificent success. 

Her youth, her wondrous beauty, the great charm of her 
manner, made her universally popular. She was presented at 
court, and was the reigning beauty of the season. She com- 
pletely eclipsed the Duchess of Redfern. If the two ladies hap- 
pened to decide upon the same day for a ball or fete^ the duch- 
ess’ invitations were invariably declined for those of Lady Da- 
rner, and she knew it. Lady Darner was so charming, so orig- 
inal, so spirituelle, and the “dear duchess” was just a little too 
stately and condescending. Once, and once only, that season, 
did Lady Darner puzzle her husband and sister. 

It was a grand opera night, and they had gone with Audrey 
and Mrs. Darner to hear the great queen of the lyric stage, 
Grisi. The house was crowded ; every one of note or celebrity 
was there. 

Lady Darner, superbly dressed, wearing her favorite jewels — 
the opals and rubies — was with her husband in one of the cen- 
ter boxes of the grand tier. Lord Darner saw how much she 
was admired ; opera-glasses and lorgnettes were directed con- 
tinually to his box. He was rather pleased than otherwise by 
this universal admiration of his wife. 

Grisi had just finished one of her most touching airs, and 
Lady Darner was looking earnestly at the gifted artiste, when her 
husband said, carelessly : 

“I never remember to have seen a more brilliant house, 
Florence. ” 

She looked carelessly around, when suddenly an awful change 
came over her face. 

The lovely bloom all died from it, a startled horror rjame 
into the violet eyes. 

She threw out her hands as though to save herself fror 1 some 
hideous vision, then fell, with a faint cry, senseless as oite dead. 

There was a great commotion. 


LAD y DAME/? ’ 5 SECEE T, 


79 


^‘What is it— what has frightened her?” asked Audrey Da- 
rner, hastening to her assistance. 

^‘She has seen Some one she knew before she was married, 
and that has frightened her,” thought quick-witted Isabel to 
herself. 

While the others were busy in removing Lady Darner, and 
tr)dng to recover her from that deadly swoon, she looked calmly 
and curiously round the house. 

There were hundreds of gentlemen present, and many of 
them were looking at the box, for the incident had been noticed 
by all ; but there was no one upon whom she could look suspi- 
ciously ; yet she was so keen of intelligence, so sure and sharp 
of instinct, that she felt certain Lady Darner had been in mor- 
tal fear of some one present. 

‘‘All in good time,” she said to herself. “I shall find out 
your secret, my lady, for a secret you have, or my name is not 
Isabel Darner.” 

In the meantime. Lord Darner and Miss Charteris had gone 
home with Lady Darner. She looked very faint and ill. 

“You are not strong enough for these crowded houses,” he 
said to his wife. “I must take better care of you, my darling. 
I would not have such another fright for all the operas in Eng- 
land. I thought you were deadj Florence! I thought you 
were dead. ” 

“What was the matter with you, Floy.?” asked Hope Char- 
teris^ for, looking in her sisters face, she saw an expression 
that had not been there since the terrible night when Dr. West 
had discovered her secret. “What was the matter?” she repeat- 
ed, anxiously. 

“The heat made me faint and giddy. Oh, Karl, we have 
had enough of London, let us go back to Avonwold, there is 
no place like it.” 

He was delighted at his young wife’s love for his grand ances- 
tral home, nothing could have pleased him better. 


8o 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


“There are one or two engagements that we must fulfill,” he 
replied, “then we will go at once.” 

- They went the week following, and, once more at Avonwold, 
Lady Darner soon recovered her brilliant bloom. 

♦ * * * * ♦ 

The joy-bells were pealing from Avonleigh church ; the 
August sun was shining brightly ; a new joy and blessing had 
come to Avonwold. The young heir was born, so that the 
grand old line could, in all probability, be carried on from 
father to son. 

There was great joy in the house ; the babe was healthy and 
thriving, although its mother was exceedingly ill. 

“Feverish and nervous,” the doctor said ; “inclined to be 
delirious ; but, with care, she would be all right in a few days. ” 

Of course, Audrey and Isabel had been sent for, and equally, 
of course, there was a constant, hidden warfare between Mrs. 
Darner and Miss Charteris. Hope would not allow any visitors 
to the sick-room, and Isabel insisted on her right to be present. 

“Nurse tells me Lady Darner is not so well to-night, that she 
is delirious,” she said, one evening, to Miss Charteris. 

“It is true ; all the greater need to keep her quiet,” was the 
calm reply. 

“Nurse says her one cry, her one idea, is that her baby is 
dead,” continued Mrs. Darner, fixing her bright, keen eyes on 
Hope’s face. “That is a strange fancy, is it not ?” 

But the quiet face betrayed nothing. 

“It is owing to her nervous, fevered state,” she said; “she 
will lose the idea when she gets well.” 

“It seems so strange she should lie there moaning over a 
dead child while she has the strongest, healthiest boy I have 
seen foi^many a long day.” 

‘ ‘ Nothing is strange in delirium, ” said Hope. ‘ ‘ I have heard 
of wilder and more dangerous fancies than that. My sister seems 
better to-day, she will soon be herself.” 

That same evening Lord Darner had stolen quietly into the 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


8 


room for one look at the beautiful babe. Hope sat by her sis- 
ter s bed. Lady Darner had fallen into a fitful slumber, from 
which they hoped she would awake better. 

“Hope,” said a faint voice, “have I been very ill.?” 

The tone and the question brought back to her mind so forci- 
bly what had occurred years ago, that for one minute Hope was 
unable to answer. 

“You have been very ill, my darling,” she whispered. 

A sudden terror came over the beautiful face. 

“I have been ill,” she said, “and strangers all round me. 
Oh, Hope, Hope ! have I told my secret.?” 

There was such an agony of terror in the wild eyes. Hope 
bent quietly over her. 

“No, no,” she whispered. “I have been with you. I have 
taken care of you. Lord Darner is here, and if you will be 
very good and patie^^t you shall see your baby ; he is as beau- 
tiful as a rosebud.” 

The only reply was a loud, hysterical burst of tears ; the ter- 
ror had been so great, the relief had been greater still and harder 
to bear. Lord Damer went up to his wife’s side. 

“Florence, my darling,” he said, “why do you weep.?” 

“Because I am so happy,” she whispered, and Hope Char- 
teris turned aw^y. • 

Heaven help those who have a secret to keep ! 

They brought the little one to her, and laid it in her arms. 
Who knew why she wept such passionate tears .? She saw in 
her own- mind a little green grave far, far away, on which no 
mother’s tears had ever fallen. A little grave uncared for, un- 
known — a little child that had never lain in her arms, whose lit- 
tle face her lips had never touched, and a sharp sword of most 
bitter pain pierced her heart. 

“It is not lucky, my lady, to let tears fall on a baby’s face,” 
said the nurse. 

“They are ml tears,” said Lord Damer; “they are drops of 


82 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


joy. The heir of all the Darners, what shall we call him, Flor- 
ence? Make haste and get well, that we may decide.” 

She did get well, and they called the little one Ahvin, after 
one of his ancestors who had died a hero’s death in the Holy 
Land. 

The next year a little daughter was born to them, whom her 
father would call Rose, because of the lovely bloom on her baby 
face. The year after a second son was given to them, whom 
Lady Darner would call Charlie. They had no more children 
— Alwin, Rose, and Charlie formed a beautiful group. 

So year after year passed on, bringing no cloud to A von wold. 
Hope Charteris often thought that her lovely sister had reached 
the hight of human prosperity; she was worshiped by her hus- 
band, adored by her children, beloved by all her friends ; she 
was a queen of fashion, a perfect Lady Bountiful. She had ac- 
complished her own prophecy — she shared the throne of the 
Duchess of Redfern ; she had not one cloud in her sky. 

*‘How thankful I am,” said Hope to herself, '‘^that I kept 
lhat horrible secret! Look at Floy, beloved, beautiful, happy, 
rich, an honored wife, an honored mother; whereas, if that had 
been known, she would have died in her youth, leaving a stained 
name behind her. I am thankful I kept it.” 

And there came to her thought that one day all secrets 
should be known, even as the sea gives up its dead. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE COTTAGE AT WIDCOMBE. 


I want a new book. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


83 


*‘And / want a new book/’ interrupted another voice. 

“My mother says that / shall have the first.” 

“I am the eldest, and I have a right to the best of every- 
thing. ” 

“I have finished my book, and you are only in the middle 
of yours.” 

“No matter, I am the eldest, and I shall have the first.” 

The voices grew loud and angry ; the quarrel became serious, 
and would most probably have ended in blows but for the time- 
ly appearance of a comely, pleasant-faced woman. 

The time was morning, the scene was the pretty, tidy kitchen 
of a small cottage, nestling in the green lanes round Widcombe. 

A cottage such as one sees in Birket Foster’s pictures, almost 
ideal in its picturesque beauty, standing under the drooping 
boughs of great elm trees, shaded from the sun by a wealth of 
rippling foliage, and presenting one mass of bloom. 

Flowers seemed to love it, for they clung round it; rose.*/ 
climbed to the roof, jessamine, with its white sprays, hun 
round the door. A large, old-fashioned garden lay in fron\l, 
and at the back was an orchard. The orchard led into a clovei^ 
meadow, where a sleek, mild-eyed cow stood drinking from a 
small pond under the elder trees. 

A perfect little picture of English home beauty. In the 
garden stood a quaint summer-house of green latticed wood, 
and near it was an old-fashioned well, where the green moss 
clung to the moist stones, and the water, even in summer, w^as 
clear and cold as ice. 

The Lane Cottage it was called by the people at Widcombe, 
and no one of an artistic turn of mind ever saw it once without 
seeing it again in their drqams. 

To the Lane Cottage, six years ago, there came a widow, with 
two children, both boys, d he eldest, rough in face, sturdy in 
manner, rather clumsily built, loud of voice — bearing altogether 
that plebeian stamp that there is no mistaking. 

He was called Robert Elster, the widow’s eldest son— a boy 


i 


84 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 ' SEC RE T. 


well liked by other boys, but rather dreaded than otherwise in 
the neighborhood. He had a great propensity for stoning cats, 
chasing fowls, disturbing orchards, leading younger boys into 
mischief. Many a mother, when she dismissed her little ones 
to play, would add, after sundry cautions : 

“Now, mind, you do not go near Rob Elster.” 

The boys had one great complaint against him : he was inor- 
dinately selfish — he wanted the best of everything without the 
trouble of getting it. He was a species of young autocrat ; he 
would lie on the grass while the others gathered the ripest black- 
berries for him ; and woe to the boy who refused to pay tribute. 
People prophesied of Rob Elster, that when he grew up he was 
one of those who would live by any means except honest labor. 

The second boy, Verner, was altogether different. He was 
one of Nature’s gentlemen — delicately molded, graceful in 
manner, fair and refined in feature; he had a musical voice, 
his words were well chosen. He might have passed for a young 
rince, and every one would have said he was well fitted to grace 
.is station. 

He seemed to be a year younger than his brother — he was 
not so tall or so strongly built. Rob was handsome in a bold, 
coarse fashion; Verner’s face was almost angelic in its fair, 
Saxon beauty. He had golden-brown curls, that clustered 
round a broad, white brow; dark-violet eyes, and a mouth 
sweet as a woman’s. 

“What a difference there is between your two children, Mrs. 
Elster !” the neighbors would say. “Verner is neither like you 
nor his brother. ” 

“He is like his father,” she would say, with a sigh, all heed- 
less of the fact that the late John Elster, railroad guard, was 
short, stout, and dark. 

The little family had been living now about six years at the 
Lane Cottage. Rob and Verner went to the best school in 
Widcombe, much to the wonderment of the neighbors. Mrs. 
Elster had no occupation, she did all the work of her pretty, lit- 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


85 


tic house and garden, made the boys’ clothes, kept them neat 
and clean, sometimes took in a little lace mending, at which 
she was very clever. 

When she was asked once how she contrived to live without 
work, she replied that she had a little pension that was paid to 
her regularly. What, or how much it was, no one knew. She 
did not live like a woman of ample means — ^just comfortably — 
very plain food, but enough of it. Her own dress was very 
plain and humble, yet she seemed to spare no expense over the 
boys. 

The brothers did not agree very well. Rob was very master- 
ful, selfish, and not always good-tempered. He was jealous of 
Verner, and always accused his mother of partiality for the 
youngest. 

“I may ask for a thing a thousand times,” he said, “and 
never get it; what Verner wants he has at once.” 

His mother’s only answer was a sigh. She knew perfectly 
well how that was. 

On this eventful morning both boys came home from school, 
saying that they wanted a new and expensive history. Verner 
went first to his mother, as he always called her, and told her 
what he wanted. 

“You shall have it at once,” she replied. 

Then came Rob with the same story. 

“I will see about it,” she replied, and at once Rob fell into 
a furious rage. 

“It is always the same — everything for Verner — nothing for 
me. Wait until I get him out of doors ; I will pay him for it. 
I will teach him to curry favor, and to sneak.” 

Mrs. Elster looked up in alarm. 

“You would not surely be so cruel as to hurt your brother, 
Rob? You are so big and so strong, and he so delicate.” 

“ Wont 1 hurt him ! You just wait, mother, until I get him 
outside ; he shall remember his new history — that is, unless I 
have mine.” 


86 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“You shall have yours to-day, Rob, but I am grie^^ed to hear 
you talk so wickedly/’ 

“Not that I mind history,” he said, “I hate it. If I had my 
way, I should cut all the kings’ heads off. What are they fit 
for? But you know I am not going to have Verner sit over 
me; I am the eldest, and I shall have my rights.” 

“I do not know that the eldest has any right,” said Mrs. 
Elster. 

“Oh, but he has, though ! The eldest sons of these precious 
kings always succeeded to the crown. If you died, everything 
in this house would belong to me. I ought to have the first 
and best of everything; instead of that, it is always Verner; 
any one would think Verner was a gentleman, and I was his 
servant.” 

r 

“Oh, Rob! how untrue, how unjust,” and the mother’s 
heart warmed to him. “Thw know I love you the best.” 

“ So you ought to. Why, Dr. North said himself, one day, 
that Verner must be a changeling, he is so different to all the 
other boys.” 

‘ ‘ Did Dr. North say so ?” said Mrs. Ulster, her face gr jwing 
crimson. 

“Yes; the boys call him ^Gentleman Elster,’ because he has 
such fine ways. Why am I not like him, mother?” 

“I cannot tell; God has made every one different; it would 
not do for all to be alike, Rob.” 

“The other day, when we were going to church, we met 
Squire Rodeur and his wife ; he stopped to speak to us. 

“ ‘ You will make a famous butcher, my little man,’ he said 
to me, and the lady laughed. She put her hand on Verner’s 
head. 

“'This little one must be a poet or a painter,’ she said; 
‘look at his face.’ 

“Now, I don’t think it is fair, mother, for one fellow to be 
called a butcher and another a painter. Why don’t I look like 
a painter, too?” 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 87 

“I cannot tell,” replied the bewildered mother. ‘‘You ask 
too many questions, Rob.” 

“Not,” continued the candid youth, “that I think any more 
of poets and painters than I do of kings ; I should cut all their 
heads off together.” 

“Rob, Rob, you must not talk so, you make me very un- 
happy. ” 

After that Master Rob went out to relieve his mind by a 
private series of pinches well delivered to Verner. 

“I shall not fight you again,” said Verner, his fair, delicate 
face flushing with rage, “because I promised my mother I 
would not. If you do not leave me in peace, I shall go and 
ask her for my promise back again, and then ” 

Master Rob, who had suffered before now in a single-handed 
conflict, thought it wisest to desist. 

“I am going to have a new history as well as you. Master 
Sneak. You are not going to be first in everything any longer, 
mother says so. ” 

He turned away. It was not the first time that he had felt his 
heart ache by some careless word carefully reported to him by 
Rob. He reproached himself afterward, and said to himself 
that his mother was always kind to him, and yet he felt sure she 
preferred Rob. 

True, he had everything he asked for; nothing was ever de- 
nied to him; but at night he had noticed, when his mother put 
them to bed, she kissed them both, but she would often return, 
and bending over Rob, kiss him again and again. 

If Rob was hurt, how tenderly she took him in her arms, and 
laid his head upon her breast, while she comforted him. If he, 
Verner, were hurt or in pain, she was all that was kind and gen- 
tle with him ; but the touch was different, the kiss was differ- 
■ viu It was a different thing altogether. 

Young as he was, he perceived that ; but as yet no doubt or 
' ripicion came to him. 


88 


LAD y DAMLD ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


“Mother,” said Rob, one day, “have we always lived at 
Widcombe? John Thurston says we have been here six years.” 

“He is right,” said Mrs. Elster, calmly. “We have been 
here no longer.” 

“Where did we live before we came here.?” 

She was about to answer when a sudden idea occurred to her, 
and arrested the words on her lips. 

“You are too curious, Rob. I do not like that fashion of 
continually asking questions.” 

“What does it matter.? Everybody knows where they have 
lived. Why should not I?” 

But on that point Jane Elster’s lips were closed, nor did her 
son ever hear the word he wanted from them. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 

Three years passed, and the boys, still at school, grew rapid- 
ly. Nothing could be seemingly more plain, commonplace, 
and prosaic than their lives ; yet, to both, life contained ele- 
ments of romance. Rob’s chief puzzle was why his mother 
never seemed willing to talk of the past; why she would never 
tell him anything, about the place where they had lived, and 
why, in every respect, he was so unlike his beautiful and gifted 
brother. 

Verner’s chief puzzle w^as a certain sense of unfitness that he 
found in himself for his life and its surroundings ; a strange, 
vivid sensation, as though he did not belong to it. He had a 


LAD y DAMER ’ S SECRE T. 89 

most sensitive, delicate, and refined nature; his mother and 
brother jarred upon it continually. They were so different to 
him that the child understood them no more than a dove reared 
in a hawk’s nest. What seemed to them great fun and great 
enjoyment, to him was unendurable vulgarity ; what they liked 
was, as a rule, utterly distasteful to him. He loved books, 
music, pictures — all that was brightest, best, and most refined ; 
they cared for none of those things. He had already made 
great progress in Greek and Latin. In all the branches of 
English education, in the classics, history, geography. Dr, 
North pronounced him to be an accomplished scholar. In 
his thirteenth year he knew more than most young men of 
eighteen. 

Nature takes strange freaks. To this boy, whose eyes had 
never been gladdened by a sight of his mother s face — who had 
never felt the touch of her hands — who was, although he knew 
it not, homeless, friendless, and nameless — she had given that 
richest and most magnificent of all dowries, a poet’s soul. 

Verner Elster was a poet. To him was given that strange gift 
called genius, that divides its possessor so entirely from the world 
that he no longer seems to belong to it. There was not a leaf 
or flower that had not its separate charm for him. The mooi; 
by night, the sun by day, the peeping stars, the singing brooks, 
the cool shade of the green woods, the dewy dawn of morning, 
the fragrant gloaming, touched him as they do poets, giving him 
thoughts that burned like fire, yet making his heart tender and 
grateful as that of a little child. 

If by chance, when his heart was full, he tried to talk either 
to his mother or Rob of these things, they did not understand 
him. Rob made fun of him, and Jane Elster wondered what 
kind of boy he was. 

One evening — in after years he remembered it so well— he 
had taken his books in the garden, there to prepare for the mor- 
row’s studies. It was a lovely June evening, and in the cottage 
garden all his favorite flowers were in bloom. He watched the 


90 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


bees flirting with lily and rose ; he watched bright-winged but- 
terflies coquetting with all flowers in their turn, and constant to 
none ; and then from one of the tall elm trees, some little bird 
poured forth a marvelous volume of song. 

Never had he listened to anything so marvelous as that song 
— its music sank into his very heart. Suddenly, he never re- 
membered how it was, but there came to him an idea that he 
could put that song into words. They seemed to spring from 
his heart to his lips — a sudden, sweet inspiration, that for some 
moments made him almost faint with its strength. 

Then he took his pencil and wrote it down. Oh ! wonder 
of wonders ! it was a poem, just like other poems ; the words 
rang out like sweet, soft music, yet there were fire and power in 
them, too. He looked at it, read it over in sheer wonder ; his 
first impulse was to run into the house to tell his mother and 
Rob, then he remembered they would be sure to laugh at him ; 
Rob would mock him with taunting words, and with this in- 
spiration, so new and strong upon him, he could not bear it. 

But after Rob had gone out with some of his young compan- 
ions, he went shyly into the kitchen, where Jane Elster was 
ironing. 

“Mother,” he said, “do not laugh at me ; but do you know 
I have written a poem 

“Written a what, child.?’' asked Jane, looking up in surprise. 

“A poem, a real poem; just like tlife poetry you read in 
books,” he replied, his delicate face flushing lest she should not 
understand him. 

“Have you, really.? I am so glad,” she replied, seeing that 
the boy requiied some sympathy, but utterly unable to offer 
him any. 

“Shall I read it to you ?” he asked, half doubtfully. 

“Oh, yes; I should like to hear it. I like poetry.” 

She put down the iron and listened, while he stood with the 
crimson flush still on his face, and a light in his eye that might 
have touched any heart. 


LAD y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 9 1 

^‘It is very pretty,” she said — “very pretty, indeed, Verner, 
and 1 am sure you are a good, industrious boy.” 

Not much poetic sympathy, but it was the best Jane Elster 
knew how to offer. 

“You should show that to Dr. North,” she added; and then 
she thought how sad it was that there was neither father nor 
mother to sympathize with the boy. 

The next morning an unusual thing happened. The post- 
man stopped at the Lane Cottage and left a letter for Mrs. Jane 
Elster. Rob received it, and took it to his mother. 

“Who is your letter from, mother?” he asked, abruptly. 

Now little untruths come easily to some women ; they do not 
have to think a moment before telling them — they are quick of 
word ; that was not the case with Jane Elster. She was natu- 
rally a truthful, open-hearted woman, who had never had but 
one secret in her life, and the telling of an untruth was no easy 
matter to her. She might have given him some evasive answer, 
but that never occurred to her. 

“ I cannot tell you, Rob; it does not concern you. ” 

‘ ‘Very well, ” he answered ; “another secret, another mystery, 
I suppose. I must not ask where we lived ; I must not ask who 
that letter is from ; is there anything else I should not ask, 
mother ?” 

“You should not speak so to your mother, Rob,” cried Ver- 
ner ; “it is very wrong of you.” 

Rob replied by an eloquent threat, and Mrs. Elster, looking 
somewhat anxious, asked for silence. 

“Dear Mrs. Elster” the letter said — “I received your let- 
ter, and shall be at the Lane Cottage some time to-night — be- 
tween nine and ten. Send the boys to bed, as I shall want to 
talk to you. I am, yours, sincerely, H. C.” 

Not a very long letter, but it was destined to have important 
results. 

It is not a very easy thing, as every mother knows, to make 


92 


LAD V DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


boys go to bed early on a fine summer’s night ; Jane began to 
hint about it soon after seven — Rob laughed at her. 

“I would sooner stay out in the fields all night, mother,” he 
said, in his rough fashion, “than go to bed now.” 

Verner was more tractable and obedient ; it was nearly nine 
when Jane called him in and told him it was bedtime. 

“I will go if you wish it, mother,” he said, “but I am not 
tired.” 

He went, and Rob, to his mother’s great relief, soon followed 
him. When the coast was clear, she sat down with an anxious 
look on her face, having taken the precaution to lock the kitchen 
door. But many bolts did not daunt Rob ; he had plainly per- 
ceived his mother’s wish to get them both out of the way, and 
this, together with the letter received that morning, made him 
suspicious. 

“Either,” he said to himself, “there is some one coming, or 
my mother is going out. ” 

Rob, who was not to be outdone in cunning, resolved to 
watch and see. Verner fell fast asleep, he lay wide awake. Ah, 
he had not been wrong; there was a strange voice, some one 
talking to his mother. He resolved to find out who it was, and 
what it was about. 

He rose very cautiously, and found to his great disappoint- 
ment that the kitchen door was locked. There was a wide chink 
in it, and looking through that, Rob saw a lady plainly dressed 
and closely vailed, sitting opposite to his mother, talking to her 
very earnestly. 

He felt some little disappointment, having expected some- 
thing far more romantic than this. He tried his best, but in 
vain ; he could not hear one word that was said, they spoke in 
such low, hushed tones. At length he distinguished Verner’s 
name, not once, but several times. Then it was of him they 
were speaking ; it was for him the mysterious visitor came. 

What could it mean.^^ What was it about Verner that he did 
not know.? Who was it that came so silently and mysteriously 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET. 93 

to speak of Verner, his younger brother? He. was the eldest, 
and had a right to know all that passed. 

'I'hen he heard something about money and school. Rob 
grew desperate. Could it be possible that his mother was going 
to do anything for Verner that she would not do for him? 

He could hear no more; in vain he tried. He put his ear to 
the keyhole, the chink ; but not a word reached him. 

“Never mind,” he thought, “I can be just as cunning as 
they are. I shall say nothing, but bide my time. If there is 
anything to find out, I shall find it — they cannot cheat me. ” 

He never knew how the conference ended ; tired and sleepy, 
he went back to bed, his mind full of wonder and conjecture; 
but all the wonder in the world never yet kept a boy awake 
when he was tired. 

He was wise in his cunning ; he said nothing to Verner. If 
there was a secret, he should find it out better by himself than 
with any one to help him. 

The secret was in danger. Years ago, Hope Charteris had 
said : 

“Your secret is safe, Floy, as though it lay dead and buried.” 

Did those words ever occur to her now ? 


CHAPTER X. 

THE INTERVIEW. 

It was after nine when Hope Charteris turned down the green 
lane that led to the cottage. She had dressed herself plainly, 
not at all in her usual style, so that she should not be recog- 


94 


LAB Y DAME SECRET. 


nized ; she had waited until dark, so that any one meeting her 
accidentally would not know her again. There was no possible 
precaution that she did not take. 

Her first words to Jane Elster were : 

“Are you quite alone.? Are the boys gone?” 

“There is no one here,” replied Jane, “and no one can 
come' in, I have locked the door.” 

“That is right,” said Hope; “and, now, as a precaution, 
let me ask you to lay aside ceremony and address me without 
any name; no one can be too cautious, some person might be 
passing by or come up to the door while we were speaking, and 
my name is well known.” 

“I will remember,” said Jane Elster. 

Hope Charteris took a chair, and sat down opposite to Mrs. 
Elster ; she unfastened her shawl, and untied her bonnet strings, 
although she did not raise her vail. 

“Now,” she said, “about this boy. Your letter pleased me. 
I am glad to hear such a good account of him.” 

“He is one of the nicest boys I ever saw,” said Jane, “very 
handsome, and very clever, indeed. I am afraid he is too clever. 
You will never make a tradesman or anything of that kind of 
him ; he writes poetry.” 

“Writes poetry!” repeated Miss Charteris; “oh, .dear, 
dear ” 

“Dr. North says he is a genius,” continued Jane, evidently 
very uncertain as to how this news would be received. 

“Worse and worse,” said Hope. 

“I should like you so much to see him; he looks like a 
young prince. ” 

But Hope’s face grew clouded over with shame. 

“I have never seen him since the day I laid him in your 
arms,” she said, musingly. 

“No; poor little, lovely fellow.” 

“But,” interrupted Hope, “he is happy, is he not? You 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


95 

are kind to him, I am sure ; and he knows nothing, he suspects 
nothing. ” 

“No,” was the grave reply. “ He calls me mother, and he 
believes that I am his mother. I am, very kind to him ; but 
any one can see he is not one of us, and although he has been 
brought up with us, still I never think the child feels quite at 
home.” 

‘.‘But he has never known anything different.? he has known 
no other life?” said Hope, anxiously. 

“No, madam; but tastes differ, and they were born with 
him.” 

“You mean that his refinement is innate,^ said Miss Char- 
teris, and Jane, smiling amiably, replied : 

‘ ‘ I dare say that is what I do mean, though long words are 
not much in my line.” 

“You have carefully kept your word, and have never men- 
tioned Riversmead since you left it?” 

“Never once,” she replied. 

Then Hope Charteris sat musing for some time. 

“Jane Elster,” she said, “the time has come when I must 
trust you more than I once thought of doing. I do not know 
what you will think of me. I must risk all that, only remem- 
ber always that I acted for the best. ” 

She sighed deeply, and looked at the fire ; perhaps the weight 
of that secret, carried through long years, oppressed her. 

“I do not wish to speak of my sister,” she said. “You 
called her Mrs. Maxwell, you can call her the same now if you 
will. Her secret is her own. I was her nearest and dearest, 
yet I never knew it. I cannot, then, tell it to you. I do not 
know whether she was married, or to whom, or why such a 
mystery existed ; all I know is, what happened.” 

And again Miss Charteris sat for some minutes quite silent, 
watching the glow of the fire. 

“As you know,” she said, “my sister was dangerously ill 
when this boy Verner was born, so ill that we had no hopes of 


96 


LAD Y DA MED ’ 6 - SEC RE T. 


her life ; her one idea was that her baby was dead, she had never 
seen it, heard it, or remembered anything about it, so that her 
first impression was that it was dead. She was so ill that I 
feared to disturb that impression ; I feared to tell her that it was 
living ; her mind was so completely made up to the fact of his 
death. 

“I know,” continued Miss Charteris, anxiously, “that you 
will blame me, but it was to save her, and I did it. Heaven 
knows, for the best. The truth is, my sister does not know the 
child is living — and she must never know it; you hear that, 
Jane? It would be certain death to her, and to more than her- 
self, perhaps. ” 

Jane Elster’s comely face had grown pale. 

‘T may tell you,” continued Miss Charteris, “that she is a 
great lady now, that she has a husband who loves her, and chil- 
dren of whom any mother would be proud. If ever she knew 
this, Jane, she would go mad, or die. We have kept her secret 
all these years — we must keep it still.” 

“Poor, lovely little fellow,” said Jane, with tears in her eyes. 

“But he is happy,” interrupted Hope, quickly, “he has all 
he needs, and, of course, I shall provide for him, better even 
than his mother could.” 

“To have a mother living in the world, and not to know it, 
never to see her, never to hear her speak, seems very hard. ” 

“He will not miss her, because he has never known her,” 
she replied. “He shall want for nothing. I will put him in 
the way of following any profession he chooses ; he shall never 
be at a loss or at a stand-still, and when he is a little older, I 
shall sell out some shares I have in the funds, and through 
some lawyer whom I may trust, settle on him an annuity of 
three hundred a year, so that he will never want for anything. ” 

“I do not see how it can be managed,” said Jane, thought- 
fully. 

“We must trust to the chapter of accidents for that,” replied 
Miss Charteris. “I suppose you mean that people would be 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRE T. 97 

curious, thinking he is your own son, and begin to wonder how 
you can aiford this and the other for him. ” 

“That is what I mean; they make remarks now about my 
sending him to Dr. North’s school. My own son, too, is often 
curious ; he often wonders why Verner may have what is denied 
to him.” 

Miss Charteris looked up impatiently. 

“ I have told you that money is no object to me — the preser- 
vation of my secret is everything. Letj'ourson have all he 
wants ; I will pey for it ; he will never know but what you pro- 
vide it for him yourself. When the time coihes for me to help 
him, 1 shall do it, so that no responsibility rests on you.” 

“ I do not want Rob to grow suspicious and tease me, ” said 
said Jane Elster. 

“Certainly not. If you will tell me what your son chooces 
in life, I shall provide for him. Is he clever 

All the mother’s pride shone in her face, as she answered : 

“Yes ; but it is in such a different way to Verner.” 

“I have been making, silently, some inquiries about Dr. 
North’s school, and I find that there are two scholarships. If 
Verner should gain one, and go to college, it will be a grand 
thing for him. In that case I shall send him, anonymously, all 
that he will require. Mind, Jane, that he wants for nothing. I 
have a large fortune, as you know, and I would spend it all in 
keeping my sister’s secret, and providing for the boy. Now I 
have settled all 1 came to say. You remember your fidelity is 
plighted to me. You must sooner suffer death, Jane, than al- 
low our secret to escape you.” 

She looked so strong, so brave, so reliable herself, that Jane 
Elster caught some of her spirits. 

“I have been true as steel to you until now,” she replied, 
“and I will be true until I die.” 

“ I believe you,” said Hope Charteris, clasping the brown, 
toil-stained hand in hers. “ It was a fortunate hour that led 
you to me.” • 


98 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


“You have been very good to me/' said Jane Elster, grate- 
fully. “ I owe my pretty home, and my quiet, easy life, and 
all my son’s good education to you.” 

Miss Charteris rose from her seat. 

“I must be going,” she said ; “it is growing late. Jane, I 
should like to see some of the boy’s writings, some of his poet- 
ry, before I go. Of course, it is all nonsense, and you must 
not encourage him in it ; but I should like to see it.” 

“I will fetch his books,” said Jane ; “they are in the pass- 
age.” 

She soon returned .ai a parcel of books in her hand. She 
gave one open to Miss Charteris. 

“This was his first,” she said. “I think you would have 
loved him, if you had seen him reading it to me. He looked 
so proud, so shy, so beautiful. ” 

Hope Charteris read the poem. It was the bird’s song put 
into words — full of the gladness and beauty of June. As she 
read it, a strange expression came over her face — one of min- 
gled sadness aud pride. 

“Jane,” she said, softly, “ I was mistaken. Never discourage 
him. The boy is a poet, and a genius. I — I should like to 
look at him without his seeing me, if I can. ” 

Jane Elster stole softly into the little chamber; both boys 
were fast asleep. 

“You can see him,” she said, “without any danger.” 

Hope Charteris went quietly into the little room. He was 
lying with his golden-browm curls tangled on the pillow ; his 
beautiful face flushed with slumber ; the sweet lips half open ; 
one hand, white and slender as that of a young prince, lay on 
the counterpane. As Hope looked at him, tears rose to her 
eyes. 

Did there come to her a vision of her sister’s other son, sleep- 
ing in his bed of down, in that chamber set aside for the heir of 
Avonwold } Did she see her sister s lovely face bending over 


LADT DAMER'S SECRET. 


99 


that other son, while her loving hands caressed him, and her 
lips whispered gentle words ? 

It must have been so, for she turned away with a heavy 
heart, and tears that could not be controlled. 

“Is he not beautiful ?” asked Jane, proudly, as they stood 
once more in the little kitchen. 

“Too beautiful and too gifted to go nameless through the 
world,” she replied, sadly. “Good-by, Jane. You do your 
duty faithfully, and I will reward you handsomely for keeping 
my sister’s secret safe. ” 


CHAPTER XL 
rod’s impressions. 

So well had Rob Elster counterfeited sleep that his mother 
never had the faintest suspicion of his having seen her visitor. 

But Rob had opened his eyes ; he had caught one glance of 
the unvailed face, just as Miss Charteris, half blinded by a mist 
of tears, was bending over Verner. 

“ It’s not me,” he said to himself; “whoever else she is come 
for, it is not me. It is all Vemer. Why should a strange 
lady come to see Verner in his sleep ?” 

And from that moment a haunting idea possessed him that 
there was a secret, and he would find it out. 

Once thoroughly convinced of that, the whole power of Rob’s 
shrewd, quick, clever mind was brought to bear upon it. A 
thousand little incidents flashed across him that added fuel to 
the flames of his curiosity. 


lOO 


LAD Y DA MED ’ 5 SECDE T. 


How was it that every one said that he, Verner, was so un- 
like himself? He neither resembled John Elster, his wife, nor 
his son. Who was he like ? 

Had his mother any secret in her life ? Had she been mar- 
ried twice ? No, that was not possible. There was only one 
year’s difference, he had heard her say so often, between Ver- 
ner and himself. She could not possibly have lost his father, 
married again, and have lost her second husband, all in one 
year. 

Besides, the secret seemed most certainly to concern no one 
but Verner himself ; he was not in it. Nor did he believe there 
was anything in his mother’s life that she need conceal. 

Yet, when he came to think it over, there were many myste- 
ries. In the first place, although she spoke continually of his 
father, she never would tell where that father died. She always 
evaded the question by saying : 

“I cannot bear to talk of the place. Do not ask me, Rob ; 
it was so horrible. ” 

That had satisfied him for years — it would content him no 
longer. A certain conviction seized him that the whole key to 
the mystery lay in finding the place where his mother had lived 
when his father died. 

“I’ll find it out, sooner or later, ” he said to himself. “It 
may be years first, but I’ll know it in the end.” 

With the true tact of cunning he set himself to watch ; he' 
said no word to his mother of what he had seen, but he resolved 
to keep a silent, shady, careful watch. 

The result of that was his suspicions were confirmed. There 
was some almost imperceptible difference between his mother’s 
treatment of Verner and himself. He could hardly define or 
describe it ; but he saw that she w'as most careful to Verner, yet 
that she seemed to love him, Rob, best. 

~ While he spent much of his time in thinking and dreaming, 
Verner was steadily at work. 

“It may be a golden secret,” said Rob to himself ; “no one 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


lOI 


knows. Perhaps for the keeping of it, or the telling of it, I 
may some day get money and live without work. How does 
my mother live?” 

He asked her, and Mrs. Elster, puzzled and wondering what 
the boy had in his mind, told him, as she told ever}" one else, 
she had a small pension that would die with her. 

“So you boys must work hard at school,” she said, “and 
make yourselves independent of me; my fortune dies with me.” 

“ From where is it ?”he asked, curiously. “You talk about 
that pension, mother ; who pays it to you, and what is it paid 
for?” 

A sudden fear assailed her as to why her boy asked such 
questions. What evil spirit of wonder and curiosity was com- 
ing to him ? 

“ Is it the railway company my father worked for?” he said ; 
“ or had he saved money, or what ?” 

Mrs. Elster s face grew very pale. 

“ Robert, I do not like these questions,” she replied. “Boys 
ought not to give way to idle curiosity.” 

‘ ‘ I don’t see much curiosity in asking that question,” he said, 
roughly. ‘ ‘ Most boys know how their parents live. Why 
should not I ?” 

“Because, above all other boys, it is your duty to trust me, 
and not annoy me.” 

“All right,” he replied, carelessly. “I was not sure before,” 
bethought to himself, “but I am sure now. There is a se- 
cret, and my mother lives on its price. The same source that 
finds her money shall find it for me.” 

His ambition took no higher form than desiring to appear at 
races and bet on dog fights, to smoke cheap strong cigars, to 
wear a gaudy pm, a yellow chain, and a ring. 

“ I shall look like a gentleman, then,” he said, “and I shall 
know how to hold my own. ’ 

In the meantime, Verner was in a fair way for obtaining the 
scholarship. His devotion to books was something wonderful. 


102 


LAD Y DAMER ’ SECRE T. 


He was Up with the lark in the summer, out in the garden un- 
der the trees ; in the winter, coiled up in an easy chair, always 
study, study — nothing else. 

Rob held him in deepest contempt. 

“A fellow with a book always in his hands knows nothing of 
life," said that hero. “You will never be worth your salt, Ver, 
until you have given up so much reading. " 

The scholarship was decided by a grand public examination, 
at which most of the leading gentlemen of the county assisted. 
It was their generous custom, when the scholarship was gained 
by a poor youth, to subscribe something handsome for his col- 
lege expenses — a great assistance to those whose parents pos- 
sessed only limited means. 

There was great excitement in the town when the examina- 
tion took place. Verner had worked hard. All his hopes were 
on it. If he failed, there was nothing before him but a hard 
life of manual labor, distasteful in the extreme, for he loved 
nothing but books. 

If he won, ah ! then the world was all before him ; he could 
choose what royal road he liked. Literature attracted him. If 
he might but spend his life among the books he loved, he asked 
no better. 

It had pleased Heaven that he should be born a poet, and he 
could not help himself. Nature had been kind to him, and 
had given him a beautiful spiritual face that matched his soul, 
a broad, white brow, ideal and thoughtful, luminous eyes, full 
of light and shade. Sweet, sensitive woman’s lips, that would 
have been lovely in the face of a girl. Ah, if there had been 
any one to feel proud of him when he set out on this bright June 
morning to fight the decisive battle of his life, any one to have 
bade him Godspeed on his way ! 

Good Mrs. Elster was busy in gathering fruit. Rob voted 
the whole affair a bore of the first magnitude, so that he went 
out alone uncheered. 

The school-room was crowded ; the examination was admira- 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T.] 1 03 

bly conducted ; frpm the first public opinion was in favor of 
Verner. His flushed face and beautiful, eager eyes interested 
every one who looked upon him. 

There was an interval for lunch, and Sir Duke Magne anx- 
iously asked Dr. North who was the boy with the beautiful face 
and clustering hair. 

“He is a 'genius, sir, that boy,” said Sir Duke, as he took 
another glass of choice Madeira. “A genius. I never heard 
such answers in my life. If he goes to college he will make his 
way there. We shall hear of him again. Who is he do you 
say?” 

“His name is Verner Elster; his mother is a poor widow 
living here.” 

“He is of a good family, I am sure; he has the face, the 
manner, the bearing of a young prince. ” 

Dr. North smiled and shook his head. 

“lam sorry to disturb your romance. Sir Duke, but there is 
nothing princely about him, except, perhaps, as you say, his 
manner ; his father was a railway guard, killed in an accident. 
His mother has a comfortable pension, perhaps from the same 
company, and they live upon it. No romance there, you see.” 

Sir Duke looked very incredulous. 

“I should not have believed it from any one else,” he said. 
“I never saw a boy who interested me so much.” 

The decision was not made until the compositions were read 
on the day following-, and then Verner Elster s were found to be 
as superior to the others as is the moon to the stars. 

The decision was solemnly announced by Dr. North, and a 
ringing cheer rose from the whole school. Verner had won it, 
and Verner was a great favorite ; every one liked him ; the boys 
were all pleased. Dr. North himself was delighted. 

“Now,” said Sir Duke, “I shall do something handsome for 
that boy. I knew that he would win. Put my name down for 
fifty pounds. North ; and next year I shall double my subscrip- 
tion, if he goes on well. ” 


104 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


As for Verner himself, his delight knew no bounds. The life 
he had dreaded need not now be his. It seemed to him that the 
golden gates of a golden land were open to him, and that he 
w’as about to enter into a golden land. Dr. North w^as very 
sanguine over his prospects, and predicted great things for him. 

‘Tf you decide upon entering the church, Verner,” he said, 
“you will find Sir Duke a good friend. He has two livings in 
his gift.” 

But Verner told him he had no inclination for the church. 

“The dream of my life is to be among books — perhaps lo 
write them. From the time I w^as quite a child I have thought 
of nothing else.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

ANONYMOUS GIFTS. 

The county paper contained a small paragraph that week, 
telling of the examination for the scholarship won by Verner 
Klster, and speaking in warm terms of his talents, and congrat- 
ulating the founder of the scholarship on the good use likely to 
be made of it. 

One bright summer morning Verner had risen early; in two 
days he was to start for the El Dorado of his dreams, Oxford. 
He was happy beyond all words, wondering, as this new tide of 
life poured in upon him, why the world was so fair. The sun 
had never seemed to him so bright ; the bird’s song was full of 
music; all nature was in its fairest mood. On this bright sum- 
mer’s morning there came to him a sort of half-wonder as to 
how he should get on at college. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


105 


While he was so pondering, the heavy carrier’s cart stopped at 
the garden gate, and the driver descended. He took from the 
cart several heavy boxes, and Verner, who had not heard his 
mother speak of expecting luggage of any kind, fancied there 
was some mistake. 

“ Is this Mrs. Elster’s?” asked the carrier, and Verner replied 
in the affirmative. 

“Then these boxes are all for her,” he said, “and heavy 
enough they be.” 

A passing wonder as to what his mother had been buying, 
unknown to him ; then Verner, with the natural politeness that 
always distinguished him, went forward to help the man. His 
own name was on the boxes, they were not for his mother at all, 
but for him. 

His face flushed, and his heart beat. What was inside 
them ? 

“Mother,” he cried, “what does this mean .? See — ‘Master 
Verner Elster.’ Who has sent me these.?” 

The carrier was paid and dismissed ; then Mrs. Elster, Rob, 
and Verner stood in silent amaze before the three large packing 
cases. 

“Open them,” cried Rob; “we shall never find out what is 
in them by looking at them. ” 

He fourld a hammer, and soon went to work ; a few minutes 
more, and the tops of the cases lay on the floor. The first was 
from Parkins & Gotto, London ; it contained a very handsome 
dressing-case, nicely fitted up with every possible requisite ; an 
excellent writing-desk, also amply and elegantly furnished ; in 
short, there was not one single article needed for the use of a 
collegian that was not there. Verner looked grave and pale. 

“Why, mother,” he asked, “who has sent me this.?” 

“We shall find out,” she replied. 

The second case, much larger than the first, was filled with 
books. All the ancient and modern classics, with every work 
that could possibly be of use. 


I o6 LAD V DAMER ’ 5 SECRE t. 

There literally seemed no end to them ; the floor, the tables, 
the chairs were covered with books. 

“That is the most beautiful sight I ever beheld,” cried Ver- 
ner ; and Rob laughed contemptuously. 

The third case was filled with fine linen, and all necessary 
comforts. There was no single thing wanting. 

* ‘ I call that something like, ” cried Rob. ‘ ‘ See, here is a 
small silver watch, and some silk handkerchiefs. I would 
sooner have those than all the stupid books ever printed. ” 

At the bottom of this, the last case, lay a handsome purse. 
Rob raised that ; it held ten golden sovereigns and a white 
card. 

“Ah, now,” cried Verner, “we shall know who it is from.” 

In a fine, bold handwriting, he read the words : 

“A gift to Verner Elster, from one who was well pleased at 
the result of his examination ; one, who, if his college career 
be as successful, will send again.” 

“I must have had a fairy godmother,” said Verner. 

“Nonsense,” cried Rob; “it is Sir Duke. I heard him 
praising you just as though no one had ever answered a ques- 
tion before. ” 

“ I never thought of that. Of course, it is Sir Duke. Must 
I write and thank him, mother .?” 

“No,” she replied, slowly; “I think not. He evidently 
does not wish it to be known, or he would not have sent these 
things without a name. It would not do in this case to men- 
tion it ” 

And suddenly Rob Elster looked at his mother ; just as sud- 
denly she looked at him, reading suspicion and doubt in his 
eyes. A deep, quiet conviction came to Rob that Sir Duke 
had nothing at all to do with it, but that his mother knew who 
had sent the boxes. 

“ I have altered my mind,” he said, quietly, “ I do not think 
it is Sir Duke ; we shall find it out though, never fear. ” 


LAD y DA MED ’ S SEC RE T. 


107 

Verner pressed the half of the contents of each case on his 
brother. 

“It is not fair, Rob, for me to have all this and you nothing ; 
take half, and I shall be satisfied. ’’ 

“There are many things in this world not fair,” said Rob, 
sententiously. “I shall touch nothing, Ver ; nothing there be- 
longs to me. ” 

But afterward, when his mother had left them alone together, 
Rob took five of the ten pounds found in the purse. 

“ that will serve me for pocket-money,” he said ; and then 
he laughed a deep, quiet laugh to think, if his plans prospered, 
how much more he should make from the same source. 

The day following, Verner Elster went to Oxford. 

“ It is the dream of my life. Come here, mother, ” he said, 
as Jane Elster bade him farewell. “I think no one ever was so 
happy — no one ever had such bright prospects. ” 

Tears dimmed Jane Elster’s eyes as she thought of him, 
homeless, motherless, in the best sense of the word ; nameless, 
for the name he was passing by was one she had lent him. Yes, 
he knew none of these things ; he passed from the home that 
was never to be his home again with a flush of hope and de- 
light in his face, a light heart, and a soul full of gratitude. 

We shall not follow his college career step by step — the high- 
est honors that could be attained he won. He was very popu- 
lar, simply from his wonderful talents. The masters delighted 
in him ; his verses called forth unqualified praise. The reports 
that reached Dr. North were most excellent. In fact, Verner 
Elster’s college career was a complete success. 

He remained at Oxford five years, and every year the anony- 
mous gifts were repeated ; the books altering in character as he 
improved in his studies. So it happened that he was quite as 
well supplied at college as those whose relatives had ample for- 
tunes. 

He wondered much who this anonymous benefactor was, but 
came to the conclusion at last that it must be Sir Duke. Sir 


ic8 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


Duke had been interested in his examination, and had told him 
that he should always remember him ; yet it seemed strange that 
he should never write, never see him, but that the only sign of 
his continued interest should be the boxes and their costly con- 
tents. 

Ah ! if he had but known they were but the peace offerings 
of a remorseful conscience — that the woman who had taken 
him an unconscious babe from his mother s arms was doing all 
she could to fill his mother s place — how differently he would 
have looked upon them. 

Strange to say, no such doubt had ever occurred to him. He 
had reproached himself very often, believing that his love for 
Jane Elster was not tender and devoted as the love of a son for 
his mother should be ; but, no doubt that she really was his 
mother, no suspicion ever crossed his mind. 

So the years passed in one calm round of duty, and when the 
curtain rises next upon our story, Verner was in his twentieth 
year, and just about to leave Oxford. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

A ROW ON THE RIVER. 

A beautiful summer s morning ; a blue, clear sky ; a golden 
light in the fragrant air ; the music of countless birds ; the rip- 
ple of the soft, green foliage ; the waving of the long grass in 
the wind ; the gentle murmur of the river, as it sang through 
the green banks. A morning when life seems doubly dear; 
sorrow and care impossible ; love, and hope, and happiness all 
around. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


109 

On the banks of the river, a group, consisting of three young 
men, looked quite in harmony with the pleasant summer scene. 
A pretty, gayly-painted boat was fastened to a thorn-bush that 
grew into the water. They were half-sitting, half-reclining on 
the greensward. Three young men, tall, comely, and strong, 
as are most of the sons of old England. The oldest among 
them, Harry Poyntz, was on the point of leaving Oxford to join 
the Coldstream Guards. Next to him sat the young Lord St. 
Albans, the only son and heir of the noble and powerful Earl 
Dysart, of Holton. 

He was just nineteen, and all the hopes of the Dysarts were 
fixed upon him. The countess, a pretty, delicate woman, had 
had several children, but they had all died in infancy, except 
Archibald, the beloved son and heir. What that life was worth 
to his doting parents, words could not tell. 

He was not very strong, this young heir of all the . Dysarts. 
He'was handsome, but it was with a delicate, girlish kind of 
beauty. His face was very fair ; the color in it came and went 
like that of a young girl ; his golden hair clustered round a 
well-shaped head. But his great pride and delight was the 
downy, golden mustache that began to shade the beautiful lips. 
He was nervous and sensitive, a combination of character that 
often induces great suffering. 

Withal, Archie St. Albans was a thorough gentleman ; he 
never thought, did, or said a mean thing; he was generous and 
chivalrous. It was hardly his fault that he had been born with 
the fair beauty and the weak nerves of a woman. 

How the Countess of Dysart ever allowed this idolized son 
out of her sight, no one could imagine. She knew best what 
she suffered. Every day she lived, she died ; but on this point, 
the earl had been inexorable. 

“The only way to make a man of Archie,” he said, “will be 
to send him to school, anc^ to college ; there he will mix with 
brave, manly young fellows, and so get over the nervousness that 
otherwise would quite spoil him.” 


I lO 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


So the countess, with many tears, had yielded. How she 
prayed her boy to be cautious, motheFs alone can imagine ; 
how she clasped him to her breast, and told him he was her 
only one, and that if anything happened to him, she must die. 

should die, Archie. I am not strong, and it would kill 
me. Always remember your mothers life is wrapped up in 
yours. ” 

As the years passed on he grew stronger, of course ; but he 
was yet far from being like other young men. 

On this eventful morning Lord St. Albans had gone out with 
Henry Poyntz and Verner Elster. He liked Verner; he had 
the greatest admiration for his genius. 

“I wish I were like you,” he would say sometimes to him, 
with a deep sigh. ‘ ‘ I ought to be clever, and I am not. I 
ought to be strong, and I am not. I wish to Heaven I were like 
you.” 

Despite the discrepancy in their rank, they were great friends. 
Verners genius, his beautiful thoughts, his noble disposition, 
his love for all things beautiful, had a great charm for the young 
heir. 

Verner was busy over his books when they came to ask him 
for this one morning. He could not refuse. 

“lam going away soon, Elster,” said Lord St. Albans, “you 
must not say me nay. ” 

“And I shall be gone directly, and will not take ‘ nay,' ” said 
Harry Poyntz. 

So Verner gave up the point, and went out with them. 

Nothing would please Harry but a row on the river. Lord 
St. Albans did not care for it 

“I know you will laugh at me,” he said.. “lam quite used 
to it ; but the truth is, water makes me nervous ; I am always 
more or less afraid of it” 

“Not, surely, of a smiling, sunny river likethis. Why, it is 
positively singing.” 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET. 


Ill 


“Yes, but it has cruel depth — cold, cruel depths. It is of 
no use talking to me, .Ha^ry ; I cannot help it.” 

“But if I were you,” said Harry, resolutely, “ I would help 
it. I would fight those nerves inch by inch ; they should never 
get the master over me. Unless you do that, you will never be 
strong. I would not give in as you do, St. Albans, for the 
whole world. ” 

After more persuasion, more teasing, more importuning, 
Lord St. Albans got into the boat. Henry Poyntz congratu- 
lated him ; but Verner, looking at his white face, did not feel 
sure the venture was a safe one. 

For some minutes it was very pleasant. The sun shone upon 
the river, leaving great trails of golden light. The water ran 
with a gentle murmur between the green banks, the wind whis- 
pered round them. 

“Now,” said Harry, “you are not frightened. I tell you, 
Archie, all you want is more resolution. They have brought 
you up in this absurd idea of nervousness until you really be- 
lieve you can do nothing. Is not this pleasant.? You shall 
take an oar, just now. We shall have you a regular first-class 
oarsman yet. ” 

But Verner saw the great effort Lord St. Albans was making, 
and did not feel so sure. 

How it happened, no one will ever know. Clever as he was, 
Harry Poyntz did not know himself. They always believe that 
some sudden nervous panic must have seized Lord St. Albans, 
and caused him to rush from one side of the boat to the other. 
They knew nothing, and understood nothing, but that the boat 
was suddenly and violently upset, and the three, in one min- 
ute, were plunged into the water. 

While Verner Elster lived, he never forgot the terrible cry 
that came from Lord St. Albans. It was only the one word, 
mother, but it seamed to cleave the bright summer air, and rise 
to the blue heaven^. 


12 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“Save him, Verner!” cried Harry Poyntz ; “my arm is 
wrenched. I cannot use it.” 

It was almost more than he could do to swim ashore himself. 
Several times he was on the point of sinking. Once Verner 
struck out to go to his aid, but Harry cried, loudly : 

, “Nevermind me; save Archie.” 

When Harry Poyntz did reach the bank, it was to fall almost 
senseless with the pain of his wounded arm. 

Verner was an ercellfent swimmer. ' With a few bold strokes 
he reached the spot where Lord St. Albans had gone down. 
Alas ! there was no sign of him. 

“He must come up -again,” thought Verner, and he kept 
close to the spot. 

But moments were precious, and they were passing rapidly ; 
yet St. Albans did not come up to the surface of the water. 

“Heaven!” cried Verner, “what must I do — what can I 
do.?” 

Nothing but dive where he had seen the young man sink. 
He did so, and, to his infinite relief and gratitude, caught hold 
of his clothes. But it was no easy task to drag that heavy, sense- 
less body up again ; and, when once more he reached the sur- 
face of the river, it was a terrible task to swim ashore with that 
burden weighing so heavily. It was done at last. Verner con- 
trived to reach the bank and lay the senseless man there. He 
was almost dead with fatigue ; but he did not lose one moment 
over himself He hastily unfastened Lord St. Alban’s clothes, 
and placed his hand over his breast. 

He was just alive, and hardly; one minute longer in the 
water, and all the science on earth could never have restored 
him. 

Verner did all that he could ; he tried to restore circulation 
and animation, but the task was beyond him. He shouted 
loudly for help, and two laborers from the fields came running 
to him. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


“A gentleman drowned ! Carry him to Wright’s cottage ; it 
is close by.” 

They were not long in crossing the fields. The mistress of 
the cottage, alert and assiduous, led the way into the only bed- 
room the place boasted. 

“ I will give five pounds to the man who is first back with a 
doctor,” said Verner. 

He knew this was a case in which gold might be poured out 
like water to save that precious life. 

While they were gone he continued to do his best by warm 
friction, and every other remedy he could think of. 

The result of the liberal reward was, that both men returned 
in an incredibly short space of time, each with a doctor. 

“So much the better,” said Verner; “you shall have five 
pounds each.” 

The two doctors set to work. 

“Save him if you can,” said Verner. “ He is the Earl of 
Dysart’s only son, and he was telling me yesterday his mother’s 
life was bound up in his.” 

It was a hard fight with death — nothing but that faint, feeble 
motion of the heart gave them any hope. In the meantime, 
Verner sent help to Harry Poyntz, who sadly needed it. But it 
was long before the young heir opened his eyes, or gave any 
sign of life ; and then both doctors declared it would be a diffi- 
cult ;ask to save him. 

It was some days before he was removed from the little cot- 
tage. 

Harry Poyntz declared that while he lived he would never 
take a nervous man on the water again. 


114 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 ” SEC RE T, 


CHAPTER XIV. 

HATTON COURT. 

No words could express the state of Lady Dysart’s mind when 
she heard of her son’s accident. 

“I knew — I was always sure that something would happen 
to him away from home,” she cried to her husband. **Oh! 
Algernon, why did you let him go ? — he would have been safe 
here.” 

My dear Laura,” said the earl, calmly, *‘his life is more 
precious to me, if possible, than to you ; but the Dysarts must 
be men, you know, and you can never make a man of any boy 
who is always indulged by his mother.” 

“I must go at once,” said Laura, Countess of Dysart. “ I 
wish I could get a special train. ” 

“The express will take us quickly enough. You see the 
dean says that all danger is quite over. ” 

“To think,” cried my lady, wringing her white hands, “that 
he should have been in danger, and I did not know it. ” 

“ I wonder who this man is who has saved his life.? Verner 
Elster. I do not remember any Elsters in society ; do you, 
Laura ?” 

“ It matters little enough who he is,” she replied. “He has 
saved my boy’s life, and I intend to like him 'next best in the 
world to Archie. Think what we owe him. If he had not 
saved our boy, where should we be now .?” 

“If we are to reach Oxford to-day, Laura, we must start at 
once ; and, when we get there, I give you carte blanche— yoM 
may bestow what wonderful reward you will on this Mr. El- 
ster. ” 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


Although Lord St. Albans was, as the dean said, out of dan- 
ger, he looked very ill ; so ill that the countess was alarmed, 
and nothing could satisfy her but that he should be taken home 
at once. 

“You must not refuse me,” she said to the earl. “ If any- 
thing happened to my son here, I would never go home again." 

Loid Dysart felt more anxious than he cared to own. 

“Anything for the best,” he said. “Archie shall please him- 
self. ” 

“Ah ! father,” said the young heir, “you must thank Verner 
Elster that I am here at all. It was the very narrowest escape 
that any one ever had. One minute longer in the water, and 
I should never have seen you again. He almost lost his own 
life in trying to save mine. ” 

“There is nothing,” said Lady Dysart, earnestly, “that I 
would not do to show my gratitude to him. Is he rich, Ar- 
chie ?” 

Lord St. Albans laughed. 

“ No, very far from it ; he won a scholarship ; that is why he 
is here. He tells me he has his own fortune to make in the 
world.” ■ 

“Then he may consider it made,” said Lady Dysart ; and, 
before she had finished speaking, the door opened. 

They were in Lord St. Albans’ room ; he had not been able 
to leave his bed. 

“Ah !” he said, “here he comes, mother. I owe my life to 
him.” 

Lady Dysart turned, and saw before her a face and figure she 
never forgot — a face that was so full of beauty and poetry, so 
noble, that she looked at him bewildered. 

“Verner, come here,” said Lord St. Albans. “I have often 
told you*of my mother, how dearly she loves me ; she wants to 
thank you for saving me from death. Mother, this is Verner 
Elster.” 


1 1 'll 6 


LAD Y DAMER ’ ^ SEC RE T. 


Lady Dysart held out her hands ; the tears were shining in 
her eyes. 

“ I do not know how to thank you,” she said. In saving 
my son’s life, you have saved mine. You must forgive me if I 
say no more.” 

And Laura, Countess of Dysart, one of the proudest women 
in England, sobbed aloud. Verner bent his beautiful face over 
her. 

“Dear Lady Dysart,” he said, “you overwhelm me. After 
all, you know I was but an instrument in the hands of God.” 

Then the earl came forward and shook hands with him. 

“ I am like Lady Dysart,” he said. “ My feelings lie beyond 
all words ; but from this time henceforward you may look on 
me as Archie does — as though you were my own son.” 

The earl and his wife were both wonderfully pleased with the 
young hero. Lady Dysart said to herself that she had never 
seen a face in which beauty, poetry, intellect, and thought were 
so perfectly blended. His manner, too, delighted her ; it was 
so graceful, so refined, so free from all affectation. 

“One thing is very sure,” said her ladyship; “he maybe 
poor, but he has certainly lived in good society all his life. He 
might, from his appearance and manners, be a young prince, at 
least. ” 

Nor was the earl less delighted. It was Verner’s scholarly 
lore that pleased him ; his brave, open, generous nature, his 
high principles, the eloquence with which nature had gifted 
him ; the most commonplace subjects were poetically treated 
by him. 

“I should have liked such a son,” he said to himself. 
“ The fame of the Dysarts would have spread in such hands.” 

Verner could not refuse the invitation given to him to go to 
Hatton Court. Lord St. Albans refused to go without him. 
The earl pressed him so earnestly that it was not possible to 
say no. 

“I would not ask you if you had any more college honors to 


LADY DAMEIVS SECRET. 


II7 

win/’ he said; ‘'but you have not. My son tells me you in- 
tended leaving very soon, and seeking for an engagement as 
tutor. Give up /to idea ; your future shall be my care.” 

But Verner looked doubtful, and Lord Dysart read the hesi- 
tation on his face. 

“Now tell me,” he said, “what is the doubt in your mind — 
I see you have one there. ” 

“I do not like to seem ungrateful,” replied Verner, “and I 
feel your kindness deeply, but ” 

“Yes,” said the earl, smiling, “ I want to understand this 
‘but.’” 

“You will forgive me, then, if I speak plainly. Lord Dy- 
sart, I am not a gentleman by birth ; my father was a poor 
man, a railway guard, who was killed in an accident. My moth- 
er is a simple, homely countrywoman, who lives on the small 
pension left to her. My home is a very poor one. I have no 
prospects, no great connections of any kind ; and it seems to 
me that I should be out of place in the midst of the grandeur 
of Hatton Court. I shall have to work hard, and living in 
such an atmosphere of luxuiy would indispose me, perhaps, for 
work. ” 

“That is your sole objection?” said the earl. 

“Yes. You are very kind to offer me your friendship, but 
the distance between us is so great. ” 

Lord Dysart held out his hand. 

“Do you know,” he said, “that you are the noblest and 
bravest young man I have met for many long days? I respect 
you more than ever, and like you a thousand times better. 
You are honest and true — ^you are one oT Nature’s gentlemen, 
and, as such, your friendship honors me. I am only sorry that 
your father is dead, and I cannot tell him what I think of his 
son. ” 

From that hour Verner Elster had no truer friend than the 
Earl of Dysart. 

Relating the scene afterward to his wife, he said : 


1 1 8 LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRE T. 

So few would have been as frank. Almost all the men and 
women I have ever met have tried to represent themselves as 
something superior, have glossed over matters, and made 
the best of themselves. Our curate, for instance, Mr. Austin, 
he would have said : ‘ My father held a position on the rail- 
road,’ leaving you to imagine anything between a railway di- 
rector and the master of an important station. There was some- 
thing in that plain, unvarnished statement, ‘ My father was a 
poor man, a railway guard,’ that charmed me.” 

“One would think, at least, that his father was a prince,” 
said Lady Dysart, thoughtfully. 

And so it was settled that Verner should go with them to 
Hatton Court. 

“You must not think of leaving us until Archie is well and 
strong again,” said Lady Dysart, “then we think of going 
abroad. He must go on the Continent, and I hope you will 
go with us. After that, we can think of your future,” 

What could he say } They had taken possession of him as if 
he were their own child. They would not be frightened at his 
poverty, his obscurity, his homely friends. They would not 
care any the less for him, do what he would. 

So Verner, who was only young and loved life dearly, gave 
himself up to the happiness of the hour, and left the future to 
take care of itself. Lady Dysart’s kindness did not end here. 
She sent many useful and valuable presents to Jane Elster, and 
offered to be useful in any way she could to Robert, the broth- 
er, as she believed, of the young hero to whom she owed her 
son’s life. 

But Rob had not made up his mind as to work at present. 

“ The best profession that I can see anywhere,” he said to his 
mother, “is to save the life of an earl’s son; it is the easiest 
way to get on in the world. ” 

“Perhaps,” said his mother, “you w'ould not have been 
quite so ready to have jumped into the water.” 

“No,” said Rob, candidly; “I should have liked something 


LAD V DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T, 1 1 9 

easier than that. You can tell her ladyship, mother, to let the 
matter stand over for the present.” 

One bright morning the whole party left Oxford for Hatton 
Court. They traveled slowly, for Lord St. Albans was still far 
from strong. The doctors thought it doubtful whether he 
would for some time recover, the shock to his nerves had been 
so great. 

Every time he fell asleep he woke with loud cries — he was 
drowning again, sinking deeper and deeper into the cold water. 
It was only Verner who could soothe him ; his presence, his 
cheerful conversation, his good spirits, were almost invaluable 
to the young heir. 

“Ah !” said Lord St. Albans, as the carriage drove up to the 
stately entrance of Hatton Court, ‘ ‘ here is my dear old home ; 
and but for you, Verner, I should never have seen it again.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

COUNTY PEOPLE. 

It was impossible for Verner not to feel happy and at .ame. 
Lord and Lady Dysart could not have been kindt' i ;.:m had 
he been their own son. 

Hatton Court was a magnificent place^' -for many generations 
past it had been the chief home of the Dysarts. The family 
records, the family pictures, the family plate, were all kept 
there. 

The Dysarts, of Hatton, were the oldest family in the county. 
They w'ere universally looked up to, respected, and beloved. 
The court itself w’as a magnificent building ; the rooms were 


120 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


furnished with all imaginable luxury. It was one of those state- 
ly, ancestral homes only found in old England, with all ancient 
grandeur and modern splendor. Verner had never seen such a 
place before ; its magnificence dazzled him. 

And yet, perhaps a little to Lady Dysart’s astonishment, he 
seemed quite at home among it all. After a few hours, he 
took everything as though he had been accustomed to it all his 
life. 

“You tell me he is the son of a railway guard,” said Lady 
Dysart to her husband. “Now tell me, does he not look as 
though he had been born to the purple ?” 

“Something very much like it, I must confess,” replied the 
earl. 

And they both wondered much more than they would have 
done had they known the truth. 

The first few days passed pleasantly enough. Lord St. Al- 
bans rapidly recovered ; his native air proved more efficacious 
than all the doctors had done ; and, when the great strain of 
anxiety over him was ended, Verner had time to think of and 
enjoy the new life. How pleasant it was ; wherever his eyes 
fell they rested on some beauty, either of nature or of art. Ah ! 
how different was this life to that he had led. Everything that 
wealth could purchase, or luxury suggest, was here — all beau- 
ties seemed to have been gathered from all parts of the world. 
How pleasant it was — the courtly calm, the subtle fragrance, 
the refinements that seemed to reign in these magnificent rooms. 
There was. nothing to mar^ the perfect harmony, the perfect 
grace and harmony. 

The room that pleased him best was the grand old library, a 
large room looking ove.' the stately trees in the park. From the 
windows one could see long vistas of spreading forest trees. 
The walls were paneled in ricn old oak ; a soft, thick crimson 
carpet covered the floor. But to him the charm was the books. 
They were there of all nations, from ul' ’me since books first 
existed — rare works of old writers, ana i Jem Hlprature in pro- 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


121 


fusion. At each large bay-window was a deep recess, in which 
stood a little table and an easy-chair, so that, w'hile studying, 
one’s eyes could be refreshed at intervals by glimpses of the 
lovely world outside. 

It was here that Verner delighted in spending his time. He 
found there books that he had read of, and had always longed 
to read. Early in the morning, when every one else slept, the 
young student was busy; and here, in the library of Hatton 
Court, he commenced that poem, “Angel Love,” that afterward 
made his name famous throughout the length and breadth of 
the land. 

Verner asked the earl for some settled employment. 

“ I have been accustomed to such constant work at college,” 
he said ; “and I should feel so much happier if I had some- 
thing to do.” 

“Elegant idleness does not suit you, then,” said the earl, 
with a smile. “ I can offer you an appointment that I think 
will please you. I have, for some time, been wishing that I 
had a secretary. I am growing old and lazy. I want some one 
to answer all my business letters, to look over my accounts, 
to make extracts for me. Would you like such a position in 
my house ?” 

“Above' everything else,” he replied. “You make me very 
happy. Lord Dysart.” 

“Well, then, you can commence at once. The remunera- 
tion will be two hundred per annum ; and of your time I shall 
require, perhaps, five hours each day.” 

“ He will be a thousand times happier,” said the host to his 
wife, “than he was before. He is high-spirited, and now he 
will not feel himself in receipt of favors.” 

So that henceforward Verner Elster was known as Lord Dy- 
sart’s secretary, and he was, perhaps, at that time, one of the 
happiest men in the world. He rose early, hastened on with 
his work, never opened book or paper of his own until he had 
done everything that the earl required, then he had always some 


122 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


hours left for his own study. After five he was at Lady Dysart’s 
service. He walked with her and Archie, then came dinner 
and pleasant evenings in the drawing, room. 

One evening Lord and Lady Dysart were speaking of return- 
ing the hospitalities that had been shown to them during the 
previous year. 

“The nicest neighbors we have,’' said the countess, turning 
to Verner, “^re the Darners, of Avonwold. Do you know the 
name I” 

No ; he had never heard it. 

“You are such a worshiper of beauty in every shape,” she 
continued, “you will be charmed with Lady Darner. She is, 
without exception, the most lovely and the most graceful woman 
I have ever seen ; is she not, Algernon 

“Yes,” said the earl, “she is not only very lovely, but there 
is a brightness about her that gives one the idea of perpetual 
sunshine. ” 

“We must ask them at once,” said the countess. “ Lady Da- 
rner was very kind during your illness, Archie ; she wrote sev- 
eral times.” 

“ How far is this place, Avonwold, from here?” asked Ver- 
ner. 

“About fifteen miles,” replied Lady Dysart. “I do not 
know, Algernon, whether Miss Charteris has returned.' Have 
you heard ?” 

Archie interrupted : 

“Where has Miss Charteris been, mother?” 

The countess laughed. 

“I am not the only foolish mother in the world, Archie. 
Lady Darner, after much deliberation, determined on sending 
her daughter Rose to a very celebrated Parisian boarding-school ; 
but she could not endure the thought of Rose going alone. 
Miss Charteris has been staying in Paris, so that she could 
watch over Rose. Now you are laughing, Archie. Remem- 
ber, I was just as anxious over you.” 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET. 


123 


“Rose used to be my little wife,” said Lord St. Albans. 
“She was a lovely little girl. If she grows up the same, I 
should like to make her my wife in earnest.” 

“Plenty of time to think about that,” said Lady. Dysart. 
“Then we will consider it a settled thing that the Darners dine 
with us next week, if they are not engaged. ” 

Verner, who was a great admirer of what he called suggestive 
words, more than once repeated to himself : 

‘ ‘Avon wold. ” 

This word pleased him ; it was musical, with something of 
poetry in it; and once he said to himself: 

‘ ‘ Lady Damer, of Avonwold. I wonder what she is like that 
they praise her beauty so much?” 

He was soon to see. The invitation to dinner was sent and 
accepted. In after years he remembered the day so well. 

It was nearly the end of September, and the woods were glo- 
rious in their rich autumn tints. The gardens were one mass 
of luxuriant autumn bloom. 

Several other people had been invited to meet the Darners, 
and, before sunset, carriage after carriage drove up to the court. 
“The loveliest woman in England, ” said Verner to himself. 
“I wonder what she is like.” 

He had never met with any very beautiful women, except in 
books, and he was not unnaturally anxious to see one. Lady 
Dysart was a handsome woman, high-bred, and dignified, but 
not beautiful, and Verner could not help a great natural curi- 
osity to see this fairest of women. 

It so happened that the earl detained him for a few minutes, 
so that when he went into the drawing-room he found most of 
the guests assembled. 

Lady Dysart came to him. 

“Now, Verner,” she said, “I will introduce you to Lady 
Damer. ” 

He followed the stately mistress of Hatton Court, and then 
his charmed eyes fell upon a picture that never left them again. 


124 


LADY DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


‘‘The loveliest woman in England!” — fairer, he thought to 
himself, than Venus, the queen of beauty. A lady seated on a 
sofa, her dress of rich blue velvet, with its sweeping train falling 
around her perfect figure in folds that would have driven a 
sculptor to despair. Clouds of fine white lace seemed to have 
fallen on her exquisite arms and white breast — clouds so fine 
that one breath would blow them all away. But it was the perfect 
beauty of the magnificent face, and the noble contour of the 
queenly head that riveted his attention. . Never had he, even 
in a dream, seen anything like that face. The luxuriant, gold- 
en-brown hair was drawn back from a white brow that ought to 
have worn a golden crown. The dark, violet eyes were bright, 
yet dreamy — tender, yet proud — they had depths into which no 
one looked — secrets which no one read. The long, silken lash- 
es lay like fringe on her perfect cheek. 

“Lady Darner,” said the countess, “you have heard me 
speak of the young hero who saved my son’s life ; allow me 
now to introduce him to you. Lady Darner, Mr. .Verner El- 
.ster.” 

And she raised her radiant eyes to his. He did not know 
what came over him in that moment — what strange sensation 
— what mad impulse to kneel at her feet and kiss her fair white 
hands. Her eyes seemed to set his head on fire, yet he knew 
not why, nor how. 

“lam very much pleased to see you, Mr. Elster,” she said, 
and the sweet tones of her clear voice thrilled him. 

Like all women — she was touched by the beauty of his face, 
and its spiritual expression ; her eyes lingered on it. She spoke 
to him again and drew aside the rich folds of her dress that he 
might sit down by her, her eyes still lingering on him. 

Ah, me I how little she knew ; how little she dreamed that 
twenty years ago he had lain in her arms, his little face touch- 
ing hers; how little she dreamed that he was “the baby” over 
whose lonely little grave she even now shed tears. 


LADY DAME R SECRET, 


125 


She was delighted with him, and when Lord Dysart came to 
take her down to dinner, she said to him : 

“1 hope Mr. El^ter will be near us. I am more than pleased 
with him."' 

And the earl to whom every wish of that lovely lady was law, 
managed that it should be so. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE DINNER PARTY AT HATTON COURT. 

The dinner party at Hatton Court was a great success. Lady 
Darner was. the most beautiful woman there, and she was unlike 
other beauties, in this respect, that her mind matched her face. 
She was clear-minded and intellectual ; no one could sustain a 
conversation with greater ease, grace, or fluency. Lord Darner 
above all other things was proud of his peerless wife. She had 
crowned his life with love, beauty, and honor. Looking back 
through the long lines of Darners, there were none who sus- 
tained the honor of the name as she did ; none so fair — so pear- 
less — so proud. 

Verner Elster was charmed with her — entranced, fascinated ; 
never in his whole life had he dreamed of a woman so fair and 
gracious as this. 

Lady Dysart had been like a revelation to him from her re- 
finement, grace, and elegance. He had seen no woman except 
such as Jane Elster— homely, uneducated, hard-working, full 
of goodness, but wanting in all the graces that make woman so 
bewitching. 

No wonder poets had from all ages written and^ sung in the 


126 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


praise of women ! He had never before understood the love of 
Dante for Beatrice, of Petrarch for Laura; but now it was all 
plain to him. Such women as Lady Darner were made to be 
worshiped as queens, not loved after the fashion of mere mor- 
tals. 

He could not quite undei-stand his own sensations ; he would 
have been willing to have sat for hours in silence simply look- 
ing at that face, dreaming over it, marveling at its beauty. It 
was not the wild witchery of love that had taken possession of 
him, but a deeper, more reverential devotion that puzzled even 
himself. 

He seemed to be roused from a dream. When the ladies 
rose to go into the drawing-room the peerless face passed from 
his sight then, and a dull, cold blank came over him. 

“Now, Mr. Elster,” said the cheerful voice of Lord Dysart, 
“pass the decanter.” 

He roused himself, then turned his thoughts from the won- 
derous beauty that had aroused all the poetry in him, and 
joined in the conversation. 

“Genius will out.” Before long the oldest man at that hos- 
pitable table was listening with delight to the young secretary. 
His lips seemed to have been touched by fire ; every subject on 
which he spook took new coloring from him — he was so entire- 
ly original — his ideas and thoughts were so beautiful and so 
true.. 

“It is a thousand pities,” said Lord Dysart to his neighbor, 
“that this young genius cannot get into Parliament; they want 
some clever speakers, and he has in him the making of a truly 
great orator — fire, passion, genius, power, strength, and elo- 
quence. We must push his fortunes.” 

But Lord Darner was, perhaps, more delighted with him than 
any one else. As they left the dining-room he went up to him, 
and said : 

“1 am pleased to have met you, Mr. Elster. I predict a 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


127 


great future for you. Will you come over to Avonwold? I 
am sure Lady Darner will be as pleased as myself to see you.” 

Verner thanked him. It was very pleasant to meet with such 
kindness, to receive such hearty proofs of liking and good-will. 

“Above all,” he thought to himself, “they know me fot 
what I am ; there is no pretense about it, every one understands 
that I am the son of a poor working man.” 

Then they entered the drawing-room, and he saw a smile in 
Lady Darner’s eyes that encouraged him to take a seat by her 
side. The lovely face was smiling on him as she drew aside her 
costly dress to make room for him. 

“That is right, Mr. Elster,” she said. “I was hoping for a 
few minutes more with you. I hear that you are a poet — is it 
true ?” 

“T do not know how to answer,” he replied. “Shall I say 
that I hope I am ?” 

His fair, boyish face flushed, and a light, beautiful to see, 
came into his eyes. 

“If to love all things beautiful and good, if to have a thou- 
sand thoughts that must find vent in words, is to be a poet, then 
I think, Lady Darner, I am one.” 

Her eyes softened as she looked at him. 

“Your mother must be very proud of you,” she said, gently. 

Verner laughed that musical laugh of his that every one liked 
to hear. 

“I do not know,” he replied. “My mother is a dear, good, 
homely woman, to whom- all books are a strange, unknown 
world. I think she is mucn prouder of my brother Rob, who 
stands six feet high, and is as strong as Goliah.” 

“ You must be strong, too, to have rescued Lord St. Albans 
as you did. ” 

“Thank Heaven, my arm is not wanting in nerve or muscle, 
Lady Darner.” 

She was looking very earnestly at him. 

“Of course,” she said, “1 have never seen you before, but 


128 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 - SECRE T. 


there is something in your face very familiar to me — why I can- 
not tell.” 

“I have never seen you before, Lady Darner,” he said. “I 
should have remembered your face ; I shall remember it now 
until I die.” 

He spoke so earnestly that she saw he had no thought of 
flattering her. 

You are going to be a courtier,” she said, with a smile. 

‘ ‘ I shall never be a courtier. Lady Darner. I have such a 
fatal knack of saying what I think, and speaking the truth. 
Those two habits would be failings in a courtier’s eyes. ” 

“ Where is your home ?” she asked, “ the home where your 
mother lives.?” 

‘ ‘ At Crosston, ” he replied ; “we have always Jived there as 
long as I can remember. ” 

“That is where the famous grammar school is kept.” 

“Yes,” he replied, his beautiful face beaming with pleasure. 
“How strange that you should know that. Lady Darner. Dr. 
North is the master, and I should think he is the finest scholar 
in England.” 

“You do not know what a reputation Crosston has, or you 
would not be surprised at my knowing of its existence. I sup- 
pose you won the scholarship, and so went to Oxford. ” 

“Yes,” he replied, “how kind you are to interest yourself in 
my poor affairs. Lady Darner.” 

''You interest me,” she said, with the same gracious soften- 
ing of her eyes and face. “You interest me strangely.” 

“Then I am very happy,” and he looked so. 

Just then Lady Dysart came up to them, with a folio of en- 
gravings, which she opened and laid before them. 

‘ ‘ Some of these are very fine, ” she said. ‘ ‘ They will please 

you. Lady Darner; you like good engravings.” 

They bent over the folio together, hardly needing anything to 
amuse them, they were so deeply engrossed in each other. 
Then, when their heads were bent, it was strange to see how 


LAD y DA MED ’ 5 SECDE T. 


129 


they resembled each other — the same graceful, ideal contour — 
the same delicate brow. A slight exclamation of surprise came 
from Lady Dysart, and Lady Darner looked up as though she 
would ask the reason. 

“You will think me very rude, Lady Darner,” she said; 
“but I always thought your hair more singularly beautiful in 
color than any that I have ever seen. Do forgive me, but see, 
Mr. Lister’s is precisely the same.” 

Lady Darner looked at the noble young head, with its cluster 
of golden-brown hair. She laughed. 

“You are quite right. Lady Dysart. I hope you have not 
been stealing my hair, Mr. Lister.?” 

“No, but I shall value my own now; I never did before.” 

“I say again that your mother must be proud of you, Mr. 
Lister. Pardon me, but do I hear Lord St. Albans address you 
as Verner?” 

“Yes,” he replied, “that is my name. I have often won- 
dered where my dear mother, who never soars into the regions 
of the romantic, found such a name.” 

“I have either heard it before or dreamed it,” said Lady Da- 
rner, and softly to herself she repeated the word “Verner.” 

‘^Some one must have suggested it to my mother,” he con- 
tinued, with a smile. “She is quite incapable of originating 
it. They often used to tease me at home, and say I had a fairy 
godmother.” 

“Indeed !” said my lady, looking into his handsome, laugh- 
ing face. ‘ ‘ Why ?” 


130 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


CHAPTER XVII. 

LADY DAMER’s DREAM. 

“Why?” repeated Lady Darner, “a fairy godmother is a 
very unusual thing in this prosaic nineteenth century.” 

‘T do not know if I dare trouble you with such nonsense,” 
replied Verner, “but the truth is, that after I won the scholar- 
ship and was going to Oxford, I received so many and such val- 
uable presents that we could only believe there w^as a fairy in the 
case. Among other things, there was a little purse of green 
silk, that I always take care of, hoping some day to find the 
owner. ” 

“Why, that is quite a romance, ” said Lady Darner; “and 
does the fairy send to you still?” 

“Every year,” he replied; “books and money, for I had no 
money of my own. If I should ever find my generous bene- 
factor, I shall know how to prove my gratitude.” 

“And have you no idea, really, who takes this strange, 
friendly interest in you ?” asked Lady Darner. 

“I am almost ashamed to say that I have given so much time 
to study that I have thought but little about it. Most probably 
it is one of the gentlemen who were present at the examina- 
tion ; they were very kind to me.” 

“Very likely,” said Lady Darner. 

“I shall always keep the little green silk purse as a talisman, ” 
he said, “for I have a strange kind of conviction or foreboding 
that some day that little purse will be of great use to me. Oh, 
Lady Darner, your kindness makes me selfish ; see how long I 
have been talking to you on that one ljt.de sybject.” 

“It interests me,” she said, again with that serene gracious- 
ness no man could resist. 


L^DY BAMER'S SECRET. 


131 

Just then Lord Darner came up to his wife. 

‘‘Florence,” he said, “have you asked Mr. Elster to give us 
a few days at Avonwold ? Lord St. Albans has promised to 
come. ” 

“I hope you will come, Mr. Elster,” she said. “Avonwold 
is the very home of poetr}\ We have a real ghpst, that appears 
on the Queen’s Terrace ; every stone, every tree, has its legend. 
You would like Avonwold. Promise me that you will join Lord 
St. Albans in his visit.” 

“It will be one of the greatest pleasures in my life,” he re- 
plied, earnestly ; and she smiled at the warmth of his words. 

“Lord St. Albans has not decided upon any particular time,” 
said Lord Darner, “but he has promised that it shall be next 
month. ” 

Then Lady Darner’s attention was called to some young ladies 
who were very anxious to please the mistress of Avonwold, hav- 
ing an eye to future balls and parties there. 

Verner was asked by Lady Dysart to amuse Captain Pierce, a 
heavy young guardsman, who had been invited with the Lane- 
hams. It was then his fate to overhear the following conversa- 
tion between Sir Leonard Dacre and Major Hammersley, two 
of the guests : 

“What a very beautiful woman Lady Darner is,” said the 
major. “I know all the beauties of the day, but I really think 
she surpasses them. ” 

“Yes,” replied Sir Leonard, who spoke with what he consid- 
ered a most engaging lisp, “she is a lovely woman — proud as 
she is beautiful ; and I like pride in a woman, it keeps them 
straight, sir — keeps them straight.” 

“My dear Sir Leonard,” said the major, calmly, “women 
like Lady Darner are always what you call straight ; they never 
go wrong. ” 

“ I wonder, now, wLa- age she is,” mused the baronet ; “I 
could not guess any date between twenty-five and thirty-five.” 

“She is one of those, ’’said Major Hammersley, solemnly. 


132 


LADY DA MED ’ 5 SECDE T. 


‘‘who never grow old ; when she is forty, that woman will be 
in the very prime and perfection of her beauty ; age is very long 
in touching a face like hers. She has a son and daughter grow- 
ing up — I should think she must be quite thirty-six — ^yet where 
would you find a young girl like her V 

“I do not think so much about youth,” said the baronet; 
“ I find young girls very insipid. I like a woman of proud and 
stately presence, of gracious, graceful manner — one like Lady 
Darner. Who was she — do you know 

“No; I have heard, but I forget — a good old English fam- 
ily, I believe. The Darners, you know, are ultra particular. I 
do not believe that one of them would marry a queen if she 
had a blot on the page of her lineage. You may be quite sure 
that a woman bearing the name of ‘ Darner ’ is all a w'oman 
should be.” 

“You know the family well, I presume .?” 

“Yes,” replied the major ; “a kinsman of this present Lord 
Darner, Audrey Darner, is my dearest friend. Talk of the jeal- 
ousy of women, I am sure that his wife. Mistress Isabel Darner, 
detests the beautiful mistress of Avonwold.” 

Sir Leonard laughed ; anything of that kind pleased him in- 
't'efisely. 

Then Lord Darner joined the group, and the conversation 
was ended. 

Lord and Lady Darner staid for the night, and Verner was 
happier than he had ever been in his life before. His feeling 
for this beautiful woman was something like adoration. 

When the hour came for leaving Hatton Court, Lady Darner 
held out her white hand to him. 

“Good-by, Mr. Elster,” she said; “ I hope I shall see you 
again, and soon.” 

She could not understand the longing that she felt to take 
him in her arms and kiss the beautiful, boyish, spiritual face. 
What attracted her so strongly to him There was no affecta- 


LAD V DAMER ’ SECRE T. 1 3 3 

tion, no coquetry in the liking that warmed her heart every time 
she looked at him. 

She thought of him as they drove home ; the noble head, 
with its clustering hair ; the beautiful eyes ; and she smiled to 
remember how Lady Dysart had said the golden-brown hair was 
so much like her own. 

How was it that all day her thoughts wandered back to the 
little grave at Riversmead that she had never seen ? 

It was so many years since, and she had never once looked 
upon the baby face hidden away there, yet she thought of it so 
long. Was there ever such a lonely little grave .? — a baby whose 
mother had never kissed him, who had no name, who came 
and went as a spring flower blooms and dies. 

“If he had lived,” she thought to herself — “my baby, my 
first-born, he would have been twenty now— ^a man almost — 
and how different my life would have been. I should never 
have married Karl then. Ah, me ! what that little life cost me. 
Why should I think so much of him to-day she wondered, 
and there came to her a kind of vision of the last and terrible 
day when the graves of all men should open. This little one 
would rise whom she pictured so fair in his infant’s shape. She 
would see her child for the first time in the great light of eter- 
nity. 

“My secret will be known then,” she said to herself. 

Then Lady Darner wondered what had come over her. She 
rose from her seat and took up a book, hoping to lose her 
thoughts in its pages. 

“It is years since I huve been so nervous,” she thought. “I 
cannot understand what has happened to me. ” 

She could not shake off the thoughts that oppressed her, so 
she went to the library to join her husband, who was writing 
there. ^ 

“You look ill, dear,” said Lord Darner. “What is the 
matter ?” 


134 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


‘‘I think I am nervous,” she said. “I have come to 3^ou, 
Karl, to cheer me. ” 

He loved her so dearly that he could not bear the least shad- 
ow on her lovely face. He put aside his letters, and took her 
out for a drive. 

“There is nothing like fresh air and sunshine for raising 
one’s spirits,” he said ; and in a short time Lady Damer had 
forgotten everything in the world except that her husband wor- 
shiped her. 

That night she had a terrible dream — one of those dreams 
that come at times like a warning of future evil. It was that 
she was walking along a high road, and she wore a white dress, 
at least it should have been white, but, looking at it, she saw 
some terrible stains — dark, mysterious stains — that filled her 
with dread and horror. Just then she saw a forest, and, to hide 
herself from all observation, she entered it. 

There was a strange light on the trees. She looked up to see 
w’hence it came, and there, across the sky, was a band of fiery 
letters. 

“Lady Darner’s Secret,” she read, then she gave a terrible 
cry. The leaves of the forest trees were all moving in the wind. 
She looked at them, and she read in fiery letters, on each one 
of them, the self-same words — “Lady Darner’s Secret.” 

Horrified, she stood still. There had been music from a 
thousand birds, but now, through the summer air, there came 
an awful sound ; it seemed as though each little bird cried 
aloud : 

“ Lady Darner’s Secret !” 

Then the mocking laughter of a hundred voices shook the 
great trees, and she woke, with her heart beating so fast that it 
was with difficulty she could breathe. 

Then a deadly terror assailed her. 

“Oh, great Heaven !” she 'cried, “let me forget that dread- 
ful dream.” 

But the words rang in her ears : 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 

“ Lady Darner’s Secret !” 

She woke her husband. 

“ Karl ! Karl !” she cried, “wake up and speak to me, or I 
shall go mad !” 

But all she could tell him, when he did wake, was that she 
had had a terrible dream. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

MISS CHARTERIS RETURNS. 

A week had elapsed, and Lady Darner still looked ill and un- 
like herself. She could not relieve her mind by speaking of 
her fears to any one ; but that dream had been a terrible shock 
to her. She was happier now, for Hope had returned, and she 
always brought with her an atmosphere of strength and rest. 

The two sisters were seated now in the luxurious dressing- 
room of Lady Darner — a scene of magnificence, luxury and ele- 
gance not to be surpassed. Florence sat beside the sumptuous 
toilet-table ; the dinner bell had not rung yet, but she was ready 
dressed, and had dismissed her maid in order that she might 
have a few minutes alone with her sister. 

Hope’s eyes rested admiringly on the lovely figure before her. 

“Floy,” she said, “I do not wish to flatter you, but I do 
think you grow more beautiful every day. ” 

. There was some reason for what she said. Lady Darner’s 
dinner dress was of rich amber silk, the beautiful neck and arms 
were like white, polished marble ; she wore a costly necklace of 
pearls, with a small ruby cross, a pearl bracelet was clasped 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


round one fair arm, the masses of golden-brown hair were fast- 
ened with a small circlet of pearls ; she had a richly jeweled fan 
in her hand, which she moved carelessly — it seemed to stir the 
fragrant air into richer fragrance. 

Lady Darner smiled indifferently. 

“lam glad you think so, Hope. I do not wish to lose my 
beauty yet. ” 

“You will have to abdicate some day in favor of Rose, Floy. 
She will be a very lovely girl ; but, now that I look more close- 
ly at you, you have lost your color. Have you been ill .? You 
do not look so bright or so happy. ” 

“I have wanted you, Hope,” said Lady Darner, as she moved 
her jeweled fan more quickly. “What should I do without 
you.? I have missed you so much.” 

( O' 

“Why did you want me, darling.?” asked the elder sister, 
looking anxiously at her. 

“Because I had grown so nervous and frightened — for a 
whole day and night I thought of nothing but that terrible time 
at Riversmead. It seemed to haynt me — I could not take my 
mind, or tear my thoughts from it ; and then, Hope, I had 
such a terrible dream — I must tell it to you — it almost drove 
me mad.” 

“Dreams are only dreams, darling,” said Miss Charteris. 

“But this was so terrible, Hope, I must tell it to you,” and 
with a face that grew whiter as she spoke. Lady Darner told her 
dream. 

“Do you know, Hope,” she said, “ that it impressed me so 
that, whenever I have looked up at the sky since then, I have 
seen, in flaming letters, ‘Lady Darner’s Seciet.?’” 

“My dear Floy, you are ner\'ous, that is all, and your nerv- 
ousness has taken that shape. It is not to be wondered at,, if 
you thought of nothing else for a day and a night. I advised 
you always to forget it, to drive it from your thoughts. ” 

“I could not; it mastered me,” she said. “Oh, Hope! 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 137 

dear Hope ! forgive me if I try your patience. Do you think 
my — my secret is safe V’ 

“ Yes ; I know it ; if it were not, I should not, I could not, 
look into your face with a smile. I am quite as anxious over 
you as you can be for yourself I have lived for you, Floy. I 
I have been mother, and sister, and friend. Danger threaten- 
ing you, must touch me first. 

Lady Darner looked greatly relieved. 

“And you really think it is safe, Hope — that wearisome se- 
cret V’ 

“Safe as are the dead. Remember, so few knew it — only 
the doctor and Mrs. Leybourne. The. doctor I do not think 
would betray us, if he were threatened with the rack ; and, even 
were he inclined to do so, he could not. I left no clew to our 
future when we quittf ’ Hyde Park Terrace. He could never 
find us, for he would not dream of looking for you at Avon- 
wold. Mrs. Leybourne looked upon you as a very young wife, 
whose husband was abroad, and whose friends were not quite 
content with the marriage. She only knew you as IMrs. IMax- 
wel), .and she is far away in America, probably dead, but never 
likely to return. You see, darling, there is not really one loop- 
hole by which your secret could escape." 

“ I have almost despaired," she replied. “Oh! Hope, could • 
the leaves of the forest, or the bird’s song, tell it as I dreamed?" 

IMiss Charteris smiled. 

“ You are allowing nerves to get the better of wisdom," she 
said. “Leaves do not talk. You must call a little common 
sense to your aid, Floy. You may, indeed, rest content. / 
pledge you my life that your secret is safe. I should not ha\'e 
allowed your marriage unless it had been so. Now look up, 
darling — your own bright self Smile, and tell me you are 
ashamed of such childish fears. 

Lady Darner's beautiful face cleared. 

“I have been so very happy of late years, Hope," she said, 
wistfully ; “Karl is so fond of me, and I love him so dearly. I 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


138 

worship my children. I am so happy, so honored, so beloved 
in my home, that it would be ten thousand pities if that dread- 
ful history came to light now. Oh 1 Hope, it would^ kill me, 
or drive me mad.” 

“You know it will never be, Floy. Now, drive it right 
away from your mind ; do not think of it again. Remember, I 
have pledged my life for your safety ; and I have told you that 
what you call a nervous fear is nothing but ill health and nerv- 
ous imagination. Now be happy again, Floy. ” 

Lady Darner had learned to rely so implicitly on her sister’s 
word, that the doubt cleared from her mind, the fear rolled 
away, as does the morning mist before the warm sunbeams. 

“Remember, Floy, this is to be the last time it is mentioned 
between us; and now let us speak of other things. I hope, 
dear, when Alwin goes to Oxford I shall not be obliged to live 
'there. ” 

Miss Charteris laughed as she spoke. 

“No ; that is different. I could not have sent Rose to Paris 
unless I had knov/n you were near. You are my tower of 
strength, Hope. I had a certain conviction that no harm could 
come to the child when, you were near her.” 

“And how have you enjoyed yourself, Floy, of late.? Lord 
Darner tells me you have been very gay. ” 

“ We paid a very pleasant visit to Hatton Court. I like the 
Dysarts so much, Hope. Lady Dysart is one of the most 
charming women I know, and her S(?h, Lord St. Albans, is per- 
fectly delightful. He inquired about you so veiy kindly. ” 

He has left Oxford, then .?” said Miss Charteris, indiffer- 
ently 

“ Yes ; I had not time to tell you in my letters of the acci- 
dent that happened to him. His mother will never trust him 
out of her sight again, I am sure. He is, as you know, any- 
thing but strong, and he went out boating with two of his 
friends, fell into the river, and would have been drowned but 
for the bravery of a young companion, who rescued him. He 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


139 

had a very narrow escape— one minute longer in the water, and 
he could not have recovered, the doctors said/' 

“I am very glad he was saved ; Lady Dysart would never 
have recovered from the shock.” 

‘ ‘ The young hero who saved him is at Hatton Court now ; 
they will never let him go again ; he is like a child of their 
own.' 

“They are sure to be very grateful to him,” said Miss Char- 
teris, carelessly. “I think dinner is late to-day, Floy.” 

“Karl and I both fell in love with this young collegian, 
Hope ; he is my perfect idol realized ; he is all that a young 
man should be — beautiful, for his face is so fair and spiritual ; 
gifted, a poet, an artist, with such a charm of manners*” 

“My dear Floy, Karl will be jealous.” 

No, Karl likes him quite as much as I do ; he has asked 
him to come over to Avonwold. He is not twenty,” she add- 
ed, with a smile, “so that there is very little cause for jeal- 
ousy.” 

Miss Charteris did not seem to be particularly interested in 
her sister’s favorite. 

“What is the name of your young hero she asked, wish- 
ing to show some little interest. 

He has a very romantic name — Verner Elster. Hope, 
Hope, what is the matter 

For Miss Charteris had fallen back in her chair, a ghastly 
pallor on her face. 

“My dear sister,” cried Lady Darner, “what is it.?” 

“ Nothing,” said Hope, trying hard to rouse herself. “Do 
not look so frightened, ’Floy ; it was only a pain, a sharp pain, 
that comes at times and shoots through my heart.” 

“You should see a doctor,” said Lady Darner, anxiously. 

“It is really nothing. See ! — now it has gone.” 

Lady Darner laid down the jeweled fan, and, bending over 
her sister, kissed her face. 


140 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


‘‘The color is coming back to your lips,” she said. “ Hope, 
you frightened me.” 

“I am very sorry, darling. You see, Floy, I grow older, 
and I cannot expect to have such perfect health as I have en- 
joyed until now; it could not be.” 

“ I would give you all my strength,” said Lady Darner, wist- 
fully. 

“I know you would, darling. I am so much interested in 
what you were telling me, Floy ; I did not quite hear the name, 
though — who was it saved Lord St. Albans?'' 


CFIAPTER XIX. 

THE GREEN SILK PURSE. 

Lady Darner smiled. 

“You will like him just as much as we do when you see 
him, Hope. His name is Verner Elster. The thing that 
struck me as being so -strange is, I am sure I have heard that 
name, Verner, before.” 

“ Very probably,” said Miss Charteris ; and no one but her- 
self knew how great was the effort to make those stiff white lips 
speak freely. “ I have known two Verners myself, so that it 
must be a well-known name. I suppose he belongs to some 
very noble family.” 

“Oh ! no,” replied Lady Darner. I must tell you why Karl 
and I like him so much. Most people, you know, make the 
best of themselves, try to make out that they are better born 
than they really are. Now, he^ is so different, he told us so 


LAW DAMEk'S SECRET. 


141 

frankly that his father was a poor, hard-working man, a railway 
guard, who was killed in an accident ; his mother, a good, 
plain, homely woman ; his home a very humble one. Do you 
not admire the courage of any young man who tells such a 
story to what the world calls fine people 

Miss Charteris did not answer immediately. Her hands were 
tightly clenched, and from her heart to her lips there rose a des- 
perate prayer for strength. 

Then, striving to speak carelessly, she said : 

“But how did your hero get to college, Floy? Railway guards 
seldom send their sons to Oxford. 

“His father died when he was quite an infant, I understand, 
and his mother lives on a small pension. He won a scholar- 
ship at Widcombe. You have heard of Widcome grammar 
school, Hope?” 

“Quite a romance,” she said, but her limbs were trembling 
so violently that she could hardly refrain from crying out. 

“Yes,” said Lady Darner, pleased to have excited her sis- 
ter’s interest ; “I was very much amused. He told me he had 
a fairy godmother.” 

/airy godmother r si2immQYtd Hope Charteris. “What 
did he mean ?” 

“Some unknown friend sends him money and presents ev- 
ery year. He has a talisman, also — a green silk purse.” 

“A green silk purse !” again repeated Miss Charteris, slowly ; 
but it seemed to her that her heart must cease beating. 

“Yes,” laughed Lady Darner. “If you think me supersti- 
tious, Hope, I wonder what you will call him ? He told me 
that he had a certain conviction that he should cqme to recog- 
nize this unknown friend through the green silk purse. ” 

Miss Charteris grew paler ; her lips quivered. 

“And you,” she said — “you saw him ?” 

“Of course I did, Hope. What a question to ask. I talked 
to him the greater part of the evening. ” 

“Did he know you — that is, I mean, had he heard of you ?” 


142 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“I do not know. He seemed to like me very much ; and, 
Hope, I should really be ashamed to say it to any one else, but 
do you know, when I said good-by to him, I felt the strongest 
inclination to take him in my arms and kiss him ?” 

“No wonder,” thought Hope Charteris to herself. “Oh, 
great Heaven ! what shall I do 

‘ ‘ Did — did you say Lord Darner liked him she asked. 

“Yes, very much. You may imagine how he pleased me, 
Hope, when I tell you that the dearest wish of my heart is to 
see my Alwin resemble him. Ah, there is the dinner-bell.” 

And Lady Darner, all unconscious of her sister’s emotion, 
stood for one moment before the mirror, while she took up her 
fan and drew on her gloves. 

“Floy,” said her sister, faintly, “ I do not think I will go 
down to dinner to-day. I do not feel well ; that pain always 
tires me.” 

She longed to be alone to realize the terrible truth, the awful 
story ; to place before her mind, in startling colors, the fact that 
her sister had met, at last, the son whom she believed to be 
dead ; that mother and child had looked at each other without 
recognition. 

But Lady Darner threw her arm round her sister. 

“Why, Hope?” she said. “Karl would be wretched. He 
has been longing for you quite as much as I have. Fancy din- 
ner, on the first day of your return, without you. If it be only 
for the pleasure of looking at you, you must come. ” 

And Hope, who for the first time in her life had lost her self, 
possession and self-command, felt it easier to go than to re- 
sist. 

But that dinner-time passed like a dream to her. She saw 
flowers, lights, everything through a mist. Lord Darner tried 
to talk to her. Florence was in better spirits, but Hope Char- 
teris had lost her courage, her calmness, her security. 

Nor could she ever remember how that long evening passed. 
She heard Lady Darner sing, and she listened while Lord Da- 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


143 

mer explained to her his views on the coming election. But 
never a word heard she ; her mind was in a tumult, her thoughts 
a whirl of confusion ; her brain was dizzy — Hope Charteris had 
lost her courage. 

“When I am once alone, ” she said, “I shall understand it 
all better.” 

Yet it seemed ages until she was alone. 

“You do not look well, Hope,” said Lord Darner. “You 
shall not sit up any longer.” 

She remembered kissing Florence, and feeling an irresistible 
inclination to fall upon her neck and cry out : 

“He is your son, Floy — ^your son, whom I have kept from 
you all these long years, whom I told you was dead — your own 
first-born son, Floy.” 

But with an iron will she controlled the mad impulse, and 
went to her own room. Then all need 'for restraint was over. 
She placed the lamp upon the table, and stood wildly looking 
at it. 

“Oh, Heaven !” she moaned, “what shall I do — what can I 
do ? Who has brought them together ? If I could but know 
that — is it fate, fortune, or Providence ?” 

She clasped her hands, and raised her despairing face. 

“Was it you, my God?” she cried. 

For the first time in her life she felt uncertain as to the right 
of w'hat she had done. Even to save her sister's fair fame, had 
she any right to separate mother and child, to let them grow up 
in the world strangers to each other — to take upon herself the 
parting of two who ought to have been all in all to each other? 

For the first time she had serious doubts as to whether the 
action she had always looked on as laudable had not been crim- 
inal. What right had she to take that little infant from his 
mothers arms, and place him in another sphere of life? 

“I did it for the best,” she moaned. “ Oh, my God ! I pray 
you remember I did it for the best. It w^as for her sake, for her 
honor, for her happiness. I w'ould have died for her.!” 


144 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


And then, as some degree of calmness returned to her, she 
began to think that all was not yet lost. True, they had met, 
this mother and child, so long parted, yet her secret was safe as 
though they had never met at all. The young man could 
never, by any possible means, discover that the brilliant and 
beautiful mistress of Avonwold was his mother, nor could Lady 
Darner ever know the hero she so greatly admired was her own 
son. Who was to tell them ? 

Even should Jane Elster and Lady Darner ever meet, they 
could not recognize each other. Jane had never seen her sis- 
ter but once, and then her beautiful face was disfigured by the 
pallor of illness. Lady Darner had never seen the widow at all, 
or had ever heard her name. No need, then, to despair. It 
had been a terrible fright, but she began to see more clearly 
now — the secret was safe as ever. No fear of any untoward rev- 
elation, no fear of discovery ; and Hope Charteris gave a long, 
deep sigh of relief. 

Suddenly there flashed across her mind what her sister had 
said of the green silk purse, and the thought made her heart 
almost stand still. 

It was Florence herself who had made that purse, and given 
it to her long years ago, and she had treasured it very much. 
How was it she had ever been so blind as to send it.? What a 
fatal mistake —what a most unfortunate error ! And, to terrify 
her still more, came the recollection of an old proverb, “Whom 
the gods would destroy, they first make mad.” 

Had she been mad when she sent that purse ? If ever Flor- 
ence saw it, she would know it at once. 

“I must get it,” she said to herself, “no matter how. I 
must have it, and then my darling will once more be safe.” 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET. 


145 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE PATTERING OF RAIN DROPS. 

A cheerful family group were assembled in the 



•room 


at Avonwold, Lady Darner looking very beautiful and graceful 
in her morning dress of pale silk ; Miss Charteris, whose kind, 
homely face does not look quite so much at ease as it used to 
do ; Lord Darner, leaning back in his chair, engaged in the 
Tivies, yet stopping every now and then to enjoy his daughter’s 
bright sallies. 

For Rose Darner is in high glee ; she is almost sixteen, and 
she has finished with that terrible school. In fact, Lady Da- 
rner had said that she can have masters for music and painting 
as long as she likes, but that there will be no need for her to re- 
turn to school. 

“Is my education finished, mamma?” asked Rose. 

And Lady Darner smiled the saddest of all smiles. 

“My darling,” she said, “ in the right sense of the word, it is 
hardly begun. ” 

“Why, mamma,” cried Rose, in surprise, “lam not boast- 
ing, but I can speak French, Italian, and German well — fluent- 
{ ly, my masters said — and I am not behind with my music or 
painting. 

Lady Darner smiled again at her daughter’s distressed face. 

“Those are accomplishments, Rose,” she replied ; “educa- 
tion lies far, far deeper. ” 

But Rose has recovered her spirits and sits at the breakfast- 
table, the fairest picture of youthful loveliness ever seen. 

She inherits her mother’s radiant beauty. She is veiy fair, 
vith rich, golden-brown hair, and laughing, violet eyes, sweet, 
ripe lips, and a slim, graceful figure. Lord Darner is very fond 


146 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRE T. 


of his daughter, and exceedingly proud of her. She is not re- 
served with her parents, but talks to them as if they were on 
terms of perfect equality. 

“If you had just come home from a Parisian boarding- 
school, papa,” she says, “you would appreciate your breakfast 
more highly than your paper.” 

“Why, Rose?” asks Lord Darner. 

“Imagine the difference between a cup of black coffee, with 
a dry, little roll, and this luxurious breakfast ; I had forgotten 
the taste of tea. ” 

“I am sure. Rose,” remonstrates Miss Charteris, “that 
Madam Larroix kept an excellent table. ” 

“Of its kind, auntie; you must have what Monsieur Du- 
pont used to call the art of qualification of speech. ” 

Miss Charteris was perfectly accustomed to her niece’s style 
of conversation. 

“You will drive out this morning, Florence, as usual, I sup- 
pose, ” said Lord Darner to his wife. 

Rose looked through the window at the beautiful vista of 
blooming flowers and green trees. 

“Mamma,” she said, suddenly, “as we only reached home 
so lately there has not been time to decide about my rooms. I 
do not like the one I have now.” 

“Why not?” asked Lady Darner. “I like the south best; 
there is a much prettier view from those windows than from 
mine. ” 

Another idea seemed suddenly to strike her. 

“I did not think there would be any driving out to-day,” she 
said. ‘ ‘ I was kept awake half the night by the pattering of 
rain drops; I thought to find the world half drowned.” 

“The pattering of rain drops,” said Lord Darner, looking up 
from his paper. “Why, Rose, the gardeners were lamenting 
in chorus this morning, that no drop of rain had fallen for some 
weeks. You must have dreamed it.” 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRET. 


147 


“Indeed I did not, papa; they pattered against the window 
and on the hard stones of the terrace. ” 

“Where do you sleep?” asked the master of Avonwold, lay- 
ing down his paper, and looking at her. 

“ In the western wing, in one of those large rooms that open 
on the Queen’s Terrace.” 

“Then, Rose, you have heard the Avonwold ghost.” 

“Have I,” she cried, “how delightful !” 

But Lady Darner had grown very pale, and Miss Charteris 
was evidently uneasy. 

“Before any sorrow or unfortunate event befalls the Darners,” 
said Lord Darner, rather proud than otherwise of the family 
legend, “this sound of falling rain drops is heard.” 

“I never can bear to hear that,” said Lady Darner. “Lady 
St. Julien declared, years ago, when I came home, that she had 
heard it ; no misfortune followed then, Karl. ” 

“Not that we know of; but the legend has been in the fami- 
ly many years. ” 

Seeing that his wife evidently looked distressed. Lord Darner 
changed the subject. 

“We shall have to give up some of our old-fashioned ways,” 
he said to Lady Darner. “Rose will want balls, and parties, 
and fetes.” 

“ We have some visitors coming to-day,” replied Lady Darner. 
“You have not forgotten, Karl, Lord St. Albans and his friend 
— the young Mr. Verner you like so much.” 

“To-day,” repeated Lord Darner; “that is right. I had an 
idea that it was next week. Have you any one coming to meet 
them ?” 

“Mrs. Curzon has promised to bring Bell and Lily for a 
week. ” 

“That is right,’ said the master of Avonwold; “Rose will 
like them.” 

‘ ‘ I like everybody, papa ; but some, of course, better than 
others. ” 


148 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


Lord Darner went away. Lady Darner remembered some 
notes of invitation that sh^ had to write. Rose hurried to the 
garden, where the bees and butterflies were making the most of 
the sunshine. Hope Charteris was left alone. 

It was fortunate for her there was no one near to notice her 
agitation and her pallor. 

“Coming to-day/' she said to herself, “and that ghostly 
warning repeated for the second time. Oh, my God ! what 
does it mean.? What shall I do.? How am I to live and see 
him in his mother’s house, and the two to meet as strangers? 
I wish I were dead ! I wish I could die !” 

An unusual wish for one so brave and so courageous as Miss 
Charteris ! 

“It is no use giving way,” she thought ; “I must nerve my- 
self to meet, all and bear all. Great Heaven ! what might hap- 
pen if I gave way? How many lives do I seem to hold in the 
hollow of my hand? Ah! if some one would but tell me; is 
it Providence or chance that has sent him here ?” 

She tried to steady herself; she held out one hand to see if it 
trembled. She went to the looking-glass and viewed her face 
calmly as she would have viewed another’s. 

“Happily,” she said to herself, “there will not be much time 
for noticing me. ” 

Her limbs trembled strangely when she tried to walk. 

“He is coming to-day; mother and son will be together to- 
day,” were the words that rang through her brain, “ He is like 
her ; he has her hair and her sweet, violet eyes. Will any one 
notice that? will any one wonder how it is?” 

So she thought and thought while the sunny hours rolled on, 
the birds and bees flitted in the sunshine, the breath of the 
roses floated like a soft, sweet cloud. She saw the gardener 
cross the lawn, and once the sweet, clear voice of Rose, singing 
amid the flowers, floated to her. All the brightness, all the 
melody, and the fragrance of the summer morning were around 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 ' SEC RE T. 149 

her, and she wondeied if in the whole wide world there was one 
so desolate, so miserable as herself. 

“If there were but one to comfort me, as I comfort Floy,” 
she thought, and she remembered how she had comforted her. 
“I told her that her secret was dead and buried. Why can I 
not believe the same myself? Learn to look upon him as I 
should or any other stranger? Who is there living on the face 
of the wide world who can say to me, ‘He is Floy’s son?’” 

Then she started, for a loving arm was thrown round her, and 
Lady Darner’s voice, always so sweet and soft, said : 

“You are still here, Hope. I do not believe you have left 
this room since breakfast time. What have you ^been doing ?” 

“Watching the flowers and dreaming,” she replied, tiydng to 
banish eveiy' trace of care from her face. 

“Hope,” said Lady Darner, gently, “do you know that 
neither Karl nor I are quite sati.sfied about you ? You do not 
look well, you do not seem happy. Has anything gone wrong 
with you, my sister?” 

Hope thought for a moment befc^e -replyiti^T^ She longed to 
laugh off the question as she Wad done many others, but her 
lips were stiff and could not be put into a smiling form. 

“Nothing, Floy, that need make you anxious. 1 am not 

well I have not been myself for some time past ; but you must 

not be anxious over me — if you are, you will simply make me 
worse. ” 

“Then we will do our best to cheer you,” said Lady Darner. 
“Now come with me, Hope, and help me to choose nice rooms 
for the boys who are coming.” 

“The boys I” cried Miss Charteris, and Lady Darner laughed 
aloud. 

“I mean Lord St. Albans and Mr. Verner, Hope. I call 
them boys because, as you know, I have always liked Lord St. 
Albans, and my whole heart warms to this young Mr. Verner. 
Why, Hope, are you dizzy? You hold out your hand as though 
you could not see.” 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


150 

The sisters did not quite agree in their selection of rooms. 
For Lord St. Albans they chose one of the old state bed-cham- 
bers — a magnificent apartment ; but for Mr. Verner, Hope want- 
ed a pretty, cheerful room near her own. 

Would he not like to be near his friend?” asked Lady Da- 
rner, doubtfully. ^ 

“I feel sure he will like, this room best,” said Miss Charteris ; 
and, as usual, the younger sister yielded to the elder’s wish. 

“His room is near mine, and when he is out,” thought Hope 
Charteris, ‘ ‘ I can take away the green silk purse. ” 


CHAPTER XXL 

VISITORS AT AVONWOLD. 

A delicious June evening — so full of bloom, and fragrance, 
and beauty ; there is no resting i„^oors. Rose , Darner has tried 
to be prpper. She knows that visitors are coming, and in their 
honor she wears a pretty, pale, pink silk dress, with a brooch 
and bracelets of pearl. In their honor the waving golden- 
brown hair is wreathed with tiny rosebuds, and Rose has tried 
to sit in state in the drawing-room. What can she do — the song 
of the birds is distracting ! 

“Are they all in love with each other that they sing so sweet- 
ly?” she thinks to herself. 

Then Rose, who has a most artistic love of colors, see§ a but- 
terfly with purple wings enter a white lilycup ; she sees the busy 
bees working hard at the clove carnations— drawing richest 
honey from the odorous leaves. How can she sit there and not 
long to be out in the sunshine? So she steals quietly away. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


151 

shall hear when the dinner-bell rings,” she says to herself, 
and then, so thankful to be out in the midst of the fragrance 
and bloom, she went down where the roses grew sweetest and 
best. 

Meanwhile, Lady Darner makes her toilet, almost wondering 
why she should be so pleased to see that young stranger again. 
In honor of her guests she wears one of the magnificent dresses 
that suit her so well — a gleaming peach-colored satin, and with 
it some of the far-famed “ Damerf diamonds. 

She looks at herself and sees reflected in the large mirror a 
royally beautiful woman crowned with diamonds. 

“Shall I ever grow old?” she says to herself, with a smile. 
“My face has not altered in the least, that I can see, for the 
last twenty years. ” 

She sweeps down into the drawing-room, as imperially beau- 
tiful as any woman in England. The two gentlemen from Hat- 
ton Court have promised to be at Avonwold in time for dinner, 
and she wonders where Rose is — Rose, who ought to be also 
seated in state. 

Then the sunshine and flowers attracted her, and she went to 
the window ; as she stands there, the white lace window draper)’- 
falling round her, she looks oe&utiful enough to be one of those 
sirens whom men worship. 

Mrs. Curzon and her two pretty daughters had arrived some 
time before, and had not yet left their dressing-rooms. Miss 
Charteris, after the fashion of elder sisters who have long been 
accustomed to the responsibility of everything, was busily occu- 
pied in looking round to see that all Lord Darner s wishes had 
been carried out. 

Roses, roses, blooming roses, if you could speak, what 
would you say ?” sang Miss Darner, in a low voice, to herself. 
She was bending over a moss-rose bush, and held a lovely little 
bud between her fingers. 

“I should imagine that bud would say, ‘Don’t gather me, I 
pray,^” laughed a strange voice, quite close to her, and turning, 


152 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 ' SECRE T. 


Rose saw two young men, bowing and looking at her with the 
greatest admiration. 

^‘Miss Darner, you have not, surely, forgotten me? I re- 
member you as well as though we had parted only yesterday.” 

The frank, swget eyes were raised to his. 

“You are Lord St. Albans,” she said. “How greatly you 
are altered.” . 

“I was a mischievous boy when I saw you last, and you 
called me ‘Archie;’ now I am a man.” 

There was the slightest possible trace of confusion in his face 
as he said the words ; perhaps he felt that he was in some degree 
' boasting of the drooping mustache, that had really given him 
great trouble. 

“Miss Darner, let me introduce you to my dearest friend, and 
more than brother, Mr. Elster, who saved my life.” 

And looking up again. Rose saw a face more beautiful than 
any seen in poet’s dream. 

“You saved Lord St. Albans’ life at the risk of your own,” 
she said, holding out her little white hand. ‘ ‘ I was very anxious 
to see you. ” 

Then she blushed, thinking she had spoken too freely ; and 
Vemer thought this lovely, gracious young girl, in the midst of 
her flowers, the fairest of all pictures. 

He said something to her about the size and the odor of the 
roses. She answered him, and the three talked together with- 
out remembering the impending dinner hour. 

“With thee conversing, I forgot all time,” said Lord St. Al- 
bans ; and then Rose felt horrified at remembering what she 
had done. 

Instead of being seated in the drawing-room, and making the 
proper regulation bow as practiced so often at Madame Larroix’s, 
here she was in the garden, talking to these two young men as 
though she had known them all her life. Her lovely young 
face flushed crimson. How was she to get rid of them — what 
was she to do ? • 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


153 


Lord St. Albans must have guessed her embarrassment. 

“We should apologize for seeking the garden first,” he said ; 
but Lord Darner brought us here.” 

Just to save Rose from further confusion, her father joined 
them, and they entered the drawing-room together. 

Mrs. Curzon was there with Bell and Lily — looking as most 
other young ladies look — in clouds of white tulle and lace. 

Hope Charteris was seated in the shade of the large window. 
How she thanked Heaven that every one’s attention was direct- 
ed to the two young gentlemen, and none to her. 

Her face grew white as death, her heart almost stopped beat- 
ing, when Verner entered the room. It was years since she had 
seen him — long years — then he was a boy, sleeping in the shab- 
by little bedroom at Widcombe. She thought that, if centuries 
had elapsed, she would have known that face anywhere — the 
white, broad brow, so full of ideality and poetry, the clustering 
hair, the luminous eyes, and the beautiful mouth. 

He was so like his mother that she grew sick and faint as she 
lookecf‘at him. It would not have surprised her if the whole 
room full of people had cried out, with one voice ; 

“He is Floy’s son.” 

And then she saw Lady Darner, with a sweet smile on her ra- 
diant face, advance to meet him. 

She saw her sister’s hand clasp his, and then a merciful dark- 
ness came before her eyes, and for some minutes she could see 
no more. 

When her senses returned to her, she found herself saying : 

“Merciful Heaven, have mercy on me !” 

When she had last seen those two together, Florence lay with 
the shadow of death on her face, utterly insensible to all that 
passed, and he lay a tiny, helpless babe on her arm. 

This gorgeous drawing-room faded away, and in its place rose 
the white walls of the little chamber at the farm. She saw Dr. 
West, grave, sedate, and anxious. She heard Jane Elster’s 
voice, saying : 


154 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


‘ ‘ She was very young to be married. ” 

She remembered the little cry the baby gave when they lifted 
him from his mother’s arm, how she herself had kissed the tiny, 
sweet face in a passion of remorse and sorrow. 

Now they were together again, mother and son — Heaven help 
them, mother and son ! 

Then she had to call her strength together, for Lady Darner 
was bringing the two gentlemen to her. 

Lord St. Albans shook hands with her cordially. He had al- 
ways liked kindly, homely Hope Charteris, and then her sister 
introduced them. 

She felt like one in a dream as Vemer Elster shook hands 
with her and spoke to her. She looked up into his face in a 
bewildered, half-stupefied way, and answered him she knew not 
how. 

Something in this homely, shrinking woman touched Ver- 
ner’s heart. He sat down by her side and began to talk to her. 
In a few minutes she recovered herself. 

“It is all safe,” she said to herself, “all safe; no l^ne has 
found out that he is Floy’s son.” 

She was naturally brave and courageous, strong of mind, 
prave of heart, quick of resource, and in a few minutes her scat- 
tered semes returned to her. 

Then she was able to talk to him. Ah, no wonder that Floy 
had been charmed with him ; no wonder that Lord Darner had 
taken such a violent fancy to him. 

Lady Darner, looking at her, smiled, thinking to herself that 
the young man had surely some wonderful charm about him 
that had already begun to work upon her quiet, sedate sister. 
Then dinner was announced, and the tete-a-tete was broken. It 
was such a happy party ; Lord Darner looked around on. the 
smiling young faces, so bright, so happy ; he looked at his beau- 
tiful wife radiant in jewels, smiling, gracious, and happy. 

A sense of peace and security crept into his heart — a warmth 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


155 

of happiness that thrilled him, that, even in the midst of that 
brilliant scene, made him grateful to the Great Giver. 

And there came to him no warning of the terrible doom slow- 
ly gathering round Avonwold— the lowering cloud that was to 
hide all brightness from him forever. 

That evening Lord St. Albans found himself, for a short time, 
alone with Verner. 

“I shall never forget that lovely picture we saw to-day, Ver- 
ner,” he said — “ Miss Darner in the roses. How fair she is — 
how lovely ! If I cannot win her for my wife, I will love no 
other.” 

^‘She is very lovely, ” said Verner, calmly; “but I do not 
think she is to be compared to her mother. ” 

And, though Verner spoke quite seriously, Lord St. Albans 
laughed heartily at his words. 


CHAPTER XXIl. 

Miss CHARTERIS GROWS DESPERATE. 

“Hope,” said Lady Darner, “ I am growing quite uneasy 
about you ; so is Karl. Do you know how changed you are ? 
Your eyes burn, and look as though they never slept ; your 
hands tremble. You used to be so calm, so steady, so brave. 
And now you are nervous, unsettled. What is wrong, dear ?” 

It was a very white, changed face that Miss Charteris turned 
to her sister. She tried to smile and assure her that it was 
nothing but ill health, but Lady Darner’s keen, loving an.Kiety 
was not to be so lightly dispelled. ^ 

“Surely, Hope,” she said, “you have nothing on your mind 
— there is nothing the matter — no danger !” 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRE T. 


“No, no, Floy; what should be on my mind? Do not 
talk nonsense. Leave me to myself — I shall soon be better.” 

“But,” persisted Lady Darner, “you have said so for a long 
time ; we have left you to yourself, but you grow no better. ” 

Indeed, Miss Charteris looked ver}^ ill. It had been a terri- 
ble trial to her nerves, seeing her sister’s son brought as a stran- 
ger under her sister’s roof, and no one knowing anything about 
the truth but herself. She bound herself to bear it all in si- 
lence, but there was a great fear upon her, a terrible fear that 
nothing could do away with. 

That morning, as the whole party sat at breakfast. Rose 
laughingly told the stord of a little pearl locket she wore. 

“It holds a charm,” she said; “a real charm, a talisman. 
While I keep it no harm can come to me.” 

Verner turned to her, laughing also. 

“I have a charm,” he said, “but not so pretty as yours; 
mine is an old, green silk purse.” 

‘ ‘ Let me see it, ” said Rose, imperatively. 

‘ ‘ So you shall. It is in my room. I go nowhere without 
it. ” 

“Why do you not wear it ?” asked Rose. “You should put 
a golden guinea inside it, and keep it always upon you. ’ 

“No ; I am afraid of losing it, and you do not know how su- 
perstitious I am ; it seems to hold all my good fortune. I 
have a presentiment that if I lost that all my good fortune would 
leave me. ” 

“I am quite curious to see it,” said Rose. 

“After breakfast I shall be happy to show it to you.” 

And those few words had deprived Miss Charteris of all self- 
possession, and had caused her almost to despair. 

“ Floy will know that purse anywhere,” she thought. “ She 
made it herself, and was so proud of it. How could I be so 
mad, so foolish, so thoughtless? Who could have dreamed 
that he would be brought here ? Oh, my God ! my God !” 
cried the unhappy woman, “is it your hand that has done it?” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


57 


She bent her whole energies upon making Verner and Rose 
forget the subject of their conversation. She talked to them, 
told them anecdotes, rallied them until they all wondered at her 
high spirits. 

“Now,” she said, “do not let us lose any time. The morn- 
ing is delicious ; let us take some books and go out as far as 
the King’s Cedar ; then Mr. Elster and Lord St. Albans will 
read to us.” 

“Why, auntie,” cried Rose, “you will soon be a confirmed 
lotus-eater. I could not have invented a more luxurious idea 
myself— sunshine, fragrance, the cedar shade, and a book. ” 

“It will be very pleasant,” said Lady Darner. 

Lord St. Albans was perfectly indifferent, if he could only re- 
main near his enchanting Rose. 

“We will lose no time,” said Miss Charteris ; and they who 
smiled at her arxiety to be gone little dreamed of the feverish 
torture she was undergoing. 

She talked so much of what book they should take, who 
should read, and how pleasant and bright it was, until Verner 
and Rose, listening to her, forgot all about the purse. 

Then, when they were all ready, and Verner, with the kind- 
ly politeness that distinguished him, had offered to escort Miss 
Charteris, she suddenly remembered something very important 
that she had left undone. 

“Go on without me,” she said to Lady Darner; “I will 
follow you — I shall not be long.” 

And Lady Darner, as she went, thought there was something 
strange about her sister. 

Lord St. Albans had made himself happy — he had secured 
Rose all to himself. The sound of their pleasant voices and 
happy laughter made music in the clear, soft summer air. 

Verner walked by Lady Darner’s side. 

“Why is this particular tree called the King’s Cedar.? he 
asked. 

“Ah, Mr. Elster, there are so many legends at Avonwold I 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


158 

believe that is the reason why I love the place so dearly. The 
story is, that Charles the Second was under many obligations to 
the then Lord Darner of Avonwold, and that, after his restora- 
tion, he came here to Avonwold to thank him. The magnifi- 
cence and beauty of this cedar tree struck ‘ the merrie mon- 
arch,’ and he suggested lunch underneath its shade. He w^as 
instantly obeyed ; and, seated there, Charles Stuart filled a sil- 
ver goblet with choice malmsey, and drank to the health, pros- 
perity, and happiness of the lords of Avonwold. The legend is 
that no branch of that tree will ever break until Avonwold is on 
the eve of some terrible misfortune.” 

“Then I, for one, hope it will never break,” said Verner, and 
Lady Darner laughed. 

“ I hope not I have not much fear. Thank Heaven, our 
prosperity seems well founded.” 

Then, after some minutes, they reached the cedar tree, and 
he, with all the fervor of an artist’s soul, ciied out : 

“ How beautiful ! Oh, Lady Darner, that is a picture !” 

This famous cedar of Avonwold is so well known to all lov- 
ers of trees, that there is no need to dwell upon its beauty. 

The little party all sat down under the fragrant shade. 

“lam sitting where King Charles sat,” said Lord St. Albans, 
“and, like him, I say from my very heart, peace, happiness, 
and prosperity to the Darners of Avonwold. ” 

Then Verner, who had been asked to read, and had chosen 
Milton’s “Masque cfComus,” began. 

It is feared that neither Rose nor Lord St. Albans paid the 
attention due to such a grand poem ; they were fast drifting to 
the shores of fairy-land ; but Lady Darner was delighted. 

Something in the sound of that voice brought back her youth, 
lulled her into the sweetest dreams, awoke thoughts in her heart 
that had long been frozen and dead. She looked up at him as 
he paused. 

“ Mr. Elster, ’ she said, “where can I have heard your voice. 


LAD Y DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 


159 

before ? It sounds to ' me like a strain of half-forgotten mu- 
sic. " 

“I cannot tell,” he replied, looking at her in wonder. 

Her beautiful face was full of emotion, her eyes full of tears. 

There are chance resemblances,” he said, “invoices, and 
in faces, that move us strangely. Perhaps you have heard a 
voice like mine. Voices sound so differently in speaking and 
in reading.” 

“I do not know,” she answered. “It is like the chime of 
bells I heard when I was a child. Never mind my interruption, 
Mr. Elster ; pray pardon it. Go on with ‘Comus.’” 

“Surely,”, he said, struck by her sad face, “surely you. Lady 
Darner, so radiant, so bright, so happy; surely you have no 
sorrowful memories?” 

“Why should I have ?” she asked, in a brighter tone. 

“I do not think,” said the young man, gravely, “there can 
be a greater misfortune than to have a life all darkened by a 
shadow in youth. ” 

“No such shadow rests on me,” she said ; and mother and 
son looked almost lovingly in each other s face. 

Ah, if they had but known the truth. 

“Auntie is a long time,” said Rose, who was very much at- 
tached to Miss Charteris, and Lord St. Albans felt jealous that 
she should notice the absence of any one else while he was 
present. 

In the meantime Miss Charteris had not found her task so 
easy. It does not seem a difficult matter to enter a stranger s 
room and take anything from it, but when she came to put the 
idea into practice she found the task by no means so simple as 
it looked. She hurried up stairs at once, and saw, as she went 
to her own room, that the door was open. 

There was no need to look inside, for she heard the servant 
at work. 

She remained in her own room listening until she heard the 
maid going away, then she hastened in, feeling horribly guilty — ■ 


i6o 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRET, 


her heart beating, her hands-^old, her limbs trembling. She — 
Hope Charteris — felt like a thief in her sister’s house. She 
stood in the middle of the room, looking around ; she had al- 
most hoped to see the green purse lying on the table, but there 
was no sign of it. Then she started, and a cold perspiration 
broke out on her brow, for she heard the door open. If it 
should be Verner, oh. Heaven ! what should she say.? 

She hardly had strength to turn ; but it was only Jane, the 
house-maid, come back for something she had left behind her. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

MISS CHARTERIS SUCCEEDS. 

‘T beg pardon,” said Jane, looking half scared at the tall 
figure ^ the middle of the room. 

“You- pan finish your work,” said Miss Charteris. “I only 
came to see that Mr. Elster had everything requisite.” 

And then, still further to divert Jane’s attention, she entered 
into a discussion that was only interesting to the servant herself. 

Jane went down stairs. Miss Charteris feigned to go into her 
room, and then stole quietly back into Verner’s. 

She knew now there was but little time to spare. It would 
not do for Jane to return and find her there. She looked 
quickly through the drawers. Verner had evidently no secrets ; 
his jewelry, letters, note-books, everything belonging to him, 
lay in the confusion that delights gentlemen, on the toilet- 
table; among them, however, she could not find the green 
purse. A thought came over her that made the life-blood freeze 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


l6l 


in her veins — had he fetched it, and already shown it to Flor- 
ence? 

She knew her sister s quick, impulsive manner so well, she 
would cry out : 

“I made that purse; it is my sister’s,” and then there would 
be a grand denouement. Oh, Heaven, had that happened al- 
ready ? 

Then she understood it was not possible, for she had never 
left Veiner’s side after breakfast until he was safely out of the 
house. 

“Ah, no, thank Heaven — thank Heaven, it could not be.” 

Then strength slowly returned to her. 

“I could not bear many such shocks as these,” she said to 
herself. ‘ ‘ I have n^t the strength to live through them. ” 

Time was passing — where was the green purse? Suddenly 
her eyes fell on a small half-opened portmanteau. She looked 
eagerly into iU . Ah ! yes ; there it lay, quite at the bottom, 
half-covered with books. A small piece of paper was wrapped 
round it, on which was written : 

“Sent by my kind and dear -unknown friend, whom I pray 
Heaven to bless. . My talisman of fortune.” 

She grasped it in her hands eagerly, as a miser grasps gold; 
she hurried away with it, clutching it with fierce fingers as 
though it were something living that could speak and proclaim 
her sister’s disgrace. 

There was no fire in her own chamber, but she was deter- 
mined to destroy it. She went to the housekeeper’s room, 
where there was always a fire, and began to talk to her about 
some impending domestic event. 

“Mrs. Fenton,” she said, “I do not feel well. I have not 
been well all the morning. Will you go and fetch me a glass 
of sherry?” 

‘ ‘ I thought you looked very strange. Miss Charteris, said 
the housekeeper ; and the moment she had quitted the room, 
Hope hurried to the fire. 


I62 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 ’ SECRE T. 


Hastily, without hesitation, she took the little purse, with its 
burnished steel rings, the written paper, and thrust it into the 
very middle of the flames. She held it there with the poker 
until every vestige was consumed. Then Mrs. Fenton returned 
with the decanter of sherry. 

“You look very ill. Miss Charteris; I should think it would 
be better for you to rest than to go out. ” 

Mrs. Fenton poured out a glass of wine, which she held up 
to Hope’s white lips. 

She did feel ill ; the reaction was almost too great for her. 
She had felt so afraid, and the relief was so great, so entire. 
She drank the wine, and the housekeeper was pleased to see 
some sign of returning color. 

Then Hope walked slowly toward the King’s Cedar. She 
had been terribly frightened, and the fright had unnerved her. 

“These are but shadows,” she said, “faint shadows. Oh, 
Heaven, what should I do if ever the reality came?” 

The crisp, clear air revived her. After all, these were but idle 
fears. She was drawing near to the King’s Cedar, and she could 
hear the sound of young voices laughing and talking. 

Rose saw her first, and left her young lover’s side to greet 
her. Verner, who had a great liking for the plain, kindly lady, 
also sprang forward, but not before Hope Charteris had seen 
that he and Lady Darner had been seated side by side, and on 
what excellent terms they appeared to be with each other. 

She tried her best to recover herself, to be merry and gay as 
were the rest, and only started with annoyance to find every now 
and then that Lady Darner’s eyes lingered upon her with anxious 
curiosity. 

There was one more trial before her, that of listening to all 
that would be said when Verner should discover his loss. She 
longed for that to be over. Then, she said to herself, there 
there would be peace, and she. was growing tired of suffering. 

It came as she had expected, at dinner-time. Verner entered 


LAD Y DAATER ’ 5 SECRE T. 163 

the dining-room with a ver}’ disturbed, anxious expression on his 
face. She knew then he had discovered his loss. 

“Mr Elster,'’ said Rose, “you are the most faithless of 
men. You promised me that you would show me your talis- 
man, and you have forgotten all about it.” 

“No,” he replied, slowly and gravely. “I did not forget it, 
Miss Darner. I am sorry to say I cannot find it — it is lost.” 

Lord Darner s attention was caught by that last word. 

“Lost, Mr, Elster.?” he repeated. “I hope you have not 
lost anything ?” 

“Only my good fortune, my talisman, the little purse that 
held all my luck.” 

Lady Darner looked up with kindly interest in her face. 

“What do I hear, Mr. Elster.? Have you really lost your 
little purse?” 

“lam sorry to say, yes. Lady Darner ; it has vanished as 
mysteriously as it came.” 

‘ ‘ I am so sorry ; how did it happen ?” said a chorus of sym- 
pathizing voices, above which sounded Lord Darner’s, clear and 
rather stern. 

“Have you lost it here — at Avonwold, Mr. Elster?” 

Verner looked quite distressed at the storm he had so unwit- 
tingly raised. 

“ If so,” continued Lord Darner, “it must be found. I al- 
low of nothing being lost. ” 

“I may be mistaken,” said the young man, eagerly. “In- 
deed, I must be mistaken ; the purse was quite empty, Lord 
Darner, with a small piece of paper folded round it It would 
be impos.sible for me to have lost it. I must have left it at 
Hatton Court.” 

“But,” persisted Lord Darner, “you had some recollection 
of bringing it with you ?” 

“Only a faint one. I fancied I had placed it in my port- 
manteau, but I must have been mistaken. ” 

Verner tried to change the conversation ; he did not wish to 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


164 

make his loss a matter of comment, but Lord Darner did not 
forget it. 

After dinner was over, he drew Verner aside. 

“ In a large establishment, '' he said, ‘ ‘ one cannot be too care- 
ful. You say your purse was empty; it may have been taken 
by some one who thought there was something in it. I wish 
you could remember whether you brought it here or not. I 
shall be quite annoyed if you lose anything you value under my 
roof.” 

Nor w'ould Lord Darner rest contented until he had told his 
wife he should like some inquiries made. The only result ob- 
tained was, that “Jane” had the care of Mr. Lister’s room. 

“Hope,” said Lady Darner, “will you come with me? I 
have something disagreeable to do, and, as usual, want what 
Rose so saucily calls ‘the moral support of your countenance.’” 

Quite unconscious of what her sister wanted, Hope went with 
her, and Lady Darner rang for Jane. Jane came in, looking 
rather nervous ; the servants at Avonwold all loved their beauti- 
ful mistress, yet stood somewhat in awe of her. 

“Jane,” said Lady Darner, kindly, “you have the charge of 
Mr. Lister’s room ?” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

“He has lost an old-fashioned, empty, green silk purse, one 
of no value, yet which he values very much; have you seen it 
anywhere?” 

“No, my lady; Mr. Lister leaves all his things about the 
room, but I have not seen that. You saw to-day. Miss Char- 
teris, how I had arranged them.” 

Lady Darner turned in surprise to her sister. 

“ You, Hope?” she said ; and Miss Charteris felt that her face 
flushed the deepest crimson. 

“I went through the rooms to-day,” she said, confusedly, 
“to see if they were all right. 

“Of course,” said Lady Darner, wondering why her sister, 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 165 

need look so confused. “I need not ask you, Hope, if you 
saw anything of this purse of Mr. Verners.?” 

Hope Charteris detested a lie, she could not tell one on so 
trivial a matter. 

‘ ‘ I can only say, that if I do see the purse, it shall go to its 
owner at once, Floy.” 

“And Jane,” said Lady Darner, “be careful. I should be 
very pleased if we could give back to Mr. Elster this little trifle 
he values so highly.” 

“I will look over his room, my lady, and do my best to find 
it,” said the maid. 

When she had left the room. Lady Darner turned to her 
sister. 

‘ ‘ I never can endure to ask servants that kind of questions, ” 
she said; “it seems as though one suspected them. Jane has 
such a good, honest face. I trust I have not made her uncom- 
fortable, Hope.” 

And Lady Darner still thought her sister’s manner strange, as 
Hope made some vague reply. 


. 9 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE OLD, OLD STORY. 

Lord St. Albans had fallen most passionately in love with 
Rose Darner; he thought her “the loveliest, truest, and best” 
He would look at her and wonder if she could ever stoop from 
the height where beauty and grace had placed her, to him. 

There was no impediment in the way of his marriage ; the 
Earl and Lady Dysart had more than once expressed a wish that 


i66 


LADY DAMER ’ S SECRE T. 


he should marry young, and .he knew his mother loved Rose 
Darner. Speaking of her once, Lady Dysart had said : 

“If I had all England to choose from, I should select Rose 
Darner. Most families have their skeletons, their black sheep, 
tneir misfortunes, that they anxiously tiy to keep from the pub- 
lic eye. The Darners have nothing of the kind ; they have 
been a simple, honorable, loyal race, on whose name no stain 
rests. For that reason, and because I believe honor and loyal- 
ty to be hereditary, I should like Archie to marry Rose Darner.” 

So that when the young lord looked on the girl he loved, he 
knew that his marriage with her would give the highest joy to 
those he loved best. 

“I must win all, or lose all,” he said to himself one morn- 
ing. “ To-day I will ask Rose to be my wife.” 

He waited his opportunity, and it came on the evening of 
that same day. 

They were rambling near the lake. In impassioned sen- 
tences he announced the new joy that seemed to give life its 
greatest charm — his love for her. 

“Rose,” he said, his voice tremulous, “could you love me?” 

“I might try very hard, indeed,” said Rose, with delicious 
dimples playing round her fresh young lips. ‘ ‘ I have mastered 
many hard tasks in my life, Archie. ” 

The old familiar name escaped her unawares. It was so short 
a time since they were children. They were children now, 
standing hand in hand before the eternal gates of harmony and 
love. 

“Rose,” said Lord St. Albans, “ give me both your hands, 
dear, and say : ‘I will be your wife, Archie."” 

“They are such dreadful words,” said Rose; “so solemn.” 

But when she saw the pained look that came over his face. 
Rose relented. 

“Archie, I will love you ; I will be your wife.” 

The golden sun was shining over them ; music, fragrance, 
and beauiy surrounded them. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET 


167 

Look at the beautiful face of the young girl as she shyly ac- 
cepted her lover s caress ; one would have said the fairest of 
lives, the brightest of futures, the happiest of fates were reserved 
for her. , 

And yet, had one of the dark magicians of old stood there 
with his magical mirror, what would he have seen therein ? 

Dark clouds of ruin, of sorrow, of disgrace ; a hand red 
with murder, the prison cell, the shadow of the scaffold, and 
death. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

ROB ELSTER’s scheme. 

Robert Elster had not developed into a veiy prepossessing 
young man. He was tall, clumsily built, strong as a young lion, 
with great brawny arms, and hands most terribly awkward and 
red. His face — not ugly (indeed there was a certain amount of 
good looks, on which he prided himself not a little,) — was a 
singular mixture of shrewdness and cunning. At one glance 
ycu knew that he was not to be trusted. The dark, half-closed 
eyes never met yours with the frank look of a frank nature, and 
yet there was a certain amount of power. The principal im- 
pression that Mr. Robert Elster left upon every one was, that 
he was capable of any amount of low cunning. 

To people possessed of any refinement, he was positively 
loathsome. The swagger, the vulgar bombast, the absurd affec- 
tation in which he indulged, revolted against every element of 
good taste. 

It was Robert Elster s ambition to be a “gent,’' to carry a 


i68 


LADY DAME SECRET. 


very small cane, and swear very large oaths ; to wear a great 
common ring on a dirty led hand ; to carry his hat set aside 
with a jaunt and knowing air, as though he would imply that 
he was what in vulgar parlance is called ‘ ‘ very wide-awake. ’’ 

He rejoiced greatly in modern slang, to smoke a cheap, very 
strong cigar, to walk without gloves, so as to show his rings ; 
to switch his boots with his cane, and give hard looks of admi- 
ration to every pretty girl he met, was to Robert Elster the ac- 
me of enjoyment. 

He reveled, also, in a choice selection of low comic songs, in 
a stock of anecdotes that were, to say the least, of a very ques- 
tionable nature. 

Can you see him, reader? Can you hear the loud, coarse 
laugh, the vigorous oath, the words from which modest women 
turn in horror ? 

Alas ! for old England, that she reckons many such among 
her children. 

Rob had a constitutional dislike to work. 

“I have brains,” he used to say; “and men with brains 
ought not to work.” 

For Robert Elster had, for many long years, allowed one idea 
to grow in his mind. It was that there was a mystery, a secret 
over Verner, out of which he ought to live. Hundreds of little 
circumstances went to swell tha*- idea. 

First was the fact that his mother would never mention the 
name of the place where his father had lived and died. 

“That is not natural,” said the shrewd young reasoner to 
himself; “all women like to talk, and, if she says nothing, 
there is some very good reason why. ” 

The confirmation of his suspicions was his vivid recollection 
of Hope’s visit. 

“A middle-aged party,” he was accustomed to say, “who 
came in to see Verner and wept over him — who was she, and 
what had she to do with Verner ?” 

“ No middle-aged party ever wept over me,” he said to him- 


LADY DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 169 

self; ^'ancl I will know what it means. If there is anything to 
be made out of it, I will make it.” 

With the cunning that was natural to him, he had carefully 
kept all these thoughts to himself. He had never mentioned 
the lad of the lady’s visit to any one. 

“ I shall make my market out of that,” he said, “ in time,” 
and Rob was quite content to wait. 

But now time was passing, and Rob began to feel the pres- 
sure of circumstances. Even cheap jewelry and strong cigars 
cost money, and, as he had already decided not to work, they 
must be had by other means. First of all, he must ascertain 
if his suspicions were well founded. 

No general ever prepared for battle more cautiously than Rob 
prepared for contest with his mother. His method of opening 
the campaign did credit to him. 

“Mother,” he said, suddenly, one morning as he sat drink- 
ing his coffee, “are you sure it is all square over Verner.^” 

Jane Elster looked up, with a ripple of surprise on her come- 
ly fice. 

“Square; what do you mean, Rob?” 

“ Vv’cll, to tell you the truth, I have had some strange dreams 
lately, and I am not easy in my mind.” 

“Strange dreams !” repeated Jane Elster, “what does the boy 
mean ?” 

She placed her coffeecup on the table, and sat looking at 
him with wondering eyes. 

“You are so nervous, I hardly like to tell you. Do not 
make yourself ill about it ; but, if there is any secret over Ver- 
ner, I ought to know it.” 

Jane's comely face grew pale as she listened. 

“You see, mother, when a man dreams the same thing over 
and over again, it makes him suspicious ; does it not? 

“ I don’t know, Rob ; I don’t understand you.” 

“Well, the fact is, I have had one dream that comes again 
and again. ” 


I JO 


LADY DAMEK ’ S SECRE T, 


“Tell it to me,” said Jane. 

“It is always the same thing — a lady who comes into our 
bedroom. I have dreamed of her to often that 1 can describe 
her to you perfectly. She is middle-aged, with a kind, homely, 
pleasant face, and dark hair ; dressed in a long gray cloak, and 
she wears a vail. In my dream she always does the same thing 
— comes into our bedroom and stands by Verner’s side, then 
cries over him. But what frightens me so much is, that she 
turns to me then and says, in such a strange, muffled voice : 

“ ‘There is a secret, a secret over Verner ; find it out.'” 

“Heaven be merciful to me !” cried Jane Elster. “Wha 
can it mean ?” 

On shrewd, cunning Rob looking up, he saw that his moth- 
er’s face had grown white as death, and her eyes had in them an 
agony of fear. 

“ Oh, Rob ! Rob !’' she wailed, “ what does it mean 

“There, now, I knew you would make yourself ill, and there 
is no occasion, none in the world. The dream frightened me, 
and I have told it to you. Women always scream so. If 
these is a secret, mother, tell it to me now ; I am to know it, 
you see.” 

There came to Jane’s bewildered mind a picture of Hope 
Charteris as she had stood before her years ago, stately, solemn, 
and calm, holding a Bible in her hands. She heard the quiet 
voice : 

“Now you swear, Jane Elster, on this Bible, and by your 
hope of salvation, that you will never reveal this secret. ” 

“I swear !” she had replied, kissing the Bible. 

All this rose to her mind. She dare not have broken her 
oath if death had been before her. 

“There is no secret, Rob. You are quite mistaken. Indeed, 
I cannot tell what your dream means ; but there is no secret. 
What should it be 

“I know there is, ’’said Rob, in a determined tone. “Dreams 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


171 

are not sent for nothing. I say there i^a secret, and this wo- 
man helps you to keep it, or you help her, one of the two.” 

He knew that he had^ent the arrow home when he saw his 
mother’s face ; it was blanched with fear ; her eyes looked at 
him full of woe. If his heart had been more human, he must 
have been touched. 

Then he felt sure ; it had been suspicion before — it was cer- 
tainty now.” 

“ Mother,” he said, quietly, “ I think it is \ery hard. I am 
your eldest son, and you will not trust me.” 

“Rob,” said his mother, earnestly, “I have nothing to trust 
you with — it is all a mistake — I have no secret — Verner has 
none. Dreams, remember, are but nonsense, after all. ” 

“We shall see,” said Rob, darkly. “If you had trusted me, 
mother, it would have been all right. I should have taken 
your side ; but now, what you refuse to tell me, I shall find out 
for myself.” 

“It is all a mistake, Rob,” cried the poor woman, “all a 
mistake. ” 

“Is it ? Then there is so much the less for you to fear, 
mother, and so much the less for me to do.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

ROBERT ELSTER FALLS IN LOVE. 

For a short time Rob lost sight of his secret. Jane Elster 
hardly knew what had come over him. She looked at him in won- 
der, as one who had strange experiences ; for the gentle, kindly, 


172 


LADY DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


commonplace woman had always had the same quiet, unevent- 
ful life. 

The very spirit of unrest seemed to have taken possession of 
Rob. He was never at peace. 

He almost ruined his mother by the purchase of gaudy neck- 
ties and cheap rings. He was most scrupulous as to the due 
polishing of his boots ; the amount of bergamot he used made 
his mother faint ; and, as a last sign of his desperate condition, 
Rob took to wearing kid gloves at two shillings a pair. 

Then his mother began to suspect Rob must be in love ; 
nothing but feminine influence could possibly have encased 
those red hands in gloves. 

Jane Elster’s troubles seemed just beginning. 

“ What shall I do,” she thought, “if Rob persists in bring- 
ing a wife home here } I shall have to keep her, and then 
good-by to all comfort.” 

But Mrs. Elster little (Seamed how far Rob’s ambition was 
leading him. He had positively fallen in love with the daugh- 
ter of a farmer in the neighborhood, who was reputed to be 
worth “any amount of money.” 

If Rob had been wise, which he was not, he would have read 
signals of danger in Kate Repton’s face. It was handsome, in 
a certain bold, gipsy fashion. Her eyes were black as night, 
and flashed fire ; but there was no softness in them — no tender- 
ness. When she was angry, a certain red fire gleamed there, 
neither safe nor pleasant to see. 

She was tall and finely formed, with a statuesque kind of grace 
not usual in her rank of life. She had a wealth of black hair, 
coarse and shining. It was well known in Croston that farmer 
Repton had made a great mistake in his youth — he had fallen 
most passionately in love with and had married a lovely gipsv 
girl— lovely in face and figure, but a^ierfect fiend in violence of 
disposition. 

The old gipsy blood ran wild in her veins. Led away by 
the novelty of living in a warm, comfortable house, by the re- 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


173 


spectable position offered to her, by the novelty of being an 
honest man’s wife ; perhaps, also, touched by the deep, fierce, 
passionate love of the farmer, she had consented to give up her 
wandering life, and become Mrs. Repton. 

It is strange, yet nevertheless true, that wicked women are 
often more deeply loved than good ones. How it is, I, for one, 
cannot understand ; but I know that farmer Repton would never 
have loved any good woman as he did this wild gipsy, who had 
no goodness in her. 

She was emphatically a wicked woman, this handsome, bold 
Madge Repton. She had all the sins of her race, all its vices. 
She never told the truth, save by accident; she stole, when 
stealing was in her power ; she drank whenever she had the op- 
portunity. 

Did she do worse .? That remained a secret between Heaven 
and herself. Her neighbors all said ‘‘yes,” that when the farmer 
was away she ran through a course of profligacy shameful even 
to mention. 

Yet, despite all, she never lost her influence over the man 
who loved her so well, and when, after ten years of half-civil- 
ized life, IMadge Repton died, her husband almost lost his 
reason. 

But she did not die until she had distilled the greater part of 
her own wickedness into her daughter. Kate Repton inherited 
the wild blood, the fierce gipsy nature, the uncontrollable tem- 
per of her mother. 

People were afraid of offending her. When that red light 
came into her eyes, Kate was dangerous, and every one knew it. 

A farm-servant once ventured upon a rude remark to her. 

“You say that again,’’ cried Kate, “and I will shoot you 
dead— dead, mind !” and knowing she would keep her word, 
the offense was never repeaj^ed. 

The young men who admired her flashing eyes and hand- 
some gipsy face: never dared to say much to her; and it was 
with this bold, fierce girl that Rob Elster had fallen in love. 


174 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


Her black eyes struck him first; they looked complacently 
on him ; they gave him shy glances that enraptured Rob. He 
thought there was nothing like her, and he resolved to win Kate 
Repton, and make her his wife. 

He went through all the usual preliminaries of love. He 
wore tight br ots, so tight he could scarcely walk ; he spent the 
greater part »f this time in walking up and down the road where 
the farm-house stood ; he took to violent blushing, and one day 
a sudden thought came into his mind. 

“lam just as good as any other man,” said Rob to himself; 
“and I will go straight to her father, and ask him if he has any 
objection to me.” 

So Rob got himself up in his best style, paid a visit to farmer 
Repton, and boldly asked him the question. 

The farmer looked at him long and steadily. 

“Kate is not easily managed,” he said; “but if you like to 
undertake the task, you may.” 

“Her bit of temper will not frighten me,” said Rob. 

“So much the better — it frightens me,” was the farmers re- 
ply. “Now look, Robert Elster, if you once say but one word 
of this to Kate, you will have to keep to it, mind that. She is 
not one you can play fast and loose with I give you fair warn- 
ing before you speak. I have known your mother for years, and 
would not like anything to happen to you. I tell you honestly, 
Kate s mother wa§ a gipsy, and the girl herself — well, gunpow- 
der is nothing to her when she is roused. If you say one word 
of love to Kate Repton, you must keep to it, and marry her.” 

“I ask nothing better,” said Rob. 

A wiser man might have thought that if the girl’s own father 
considered all these precautions needful, it was indeed a bad 
case. 

“I must undeceive you about one thing,” continued the 
farmer; “the neighbors all consider me a w’ell-to-do man. I 
am not. I have not one shilling to give Kate when she is mar- 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


75 


ried, or to leave her when I die. What her mother cost me is 
only known to myself. Does that frighten you?” 

“No,” he replied. “I want Kate, not your money.” 

“Then in Heaven s name take her, and Heaven send you bet- 
ter luck, Robert Elster, than was given to me.” 

Rob’s only comment on this was that the farmer seemed fond 
of preaching, and that he hoped he would not try much of it 
on him. 

Then Robert began his w'ooing, and a fine exciting affair it 
was. He was never sure of Kate for a moment; sometimes she 
was coy, shy, timid, then again curt, abrupt, and cool — very 
rarely kind ; but when she was kind she was irresistible. 

The fierce, half-tamed, handsome girl was more difiicult to 
manage than a wild forest bird was to catch. She could not 
have taken any surer means of enchaining Rob Elster; all the 
coquetry in the world could never have controlled him as did 
this uncertainty. 

He never knew when he was going to the farm whether she 
would meet him with a softened flush on her handsome face, 
ind let him kiss her cheek, that was like a damask rose, or 
whether she would frown and tell him that she had no time to 
Waste that day. It was quite an uncertainty, and that gave a 
charm to the interview. 

At last Rob summoned courage, and boldly asked Kate if 
she would be his wife. 

“Your wife!” said the girl. “Well, I cannot think that I 
should be a pleasant wife for any one. I should want everything 
my own way. ” 

“So you should have it, Kate — I only care to please you.” 

‘‘I am very bad tempered, too,” she continued. “When I 
am really in a passion, I could kill any one.” 

“I will keep you out of passions,” said her lover, meekly. 

“Ah, that would not be possible — all you can do is to keep 
out of my way when I am angry.” 

“That I can easily do,” said Rob. 


176 


*7 

LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 

“Are you really fond of me?’' asked the girl ; and then Rob 
broke out into passionate protestations, into lovers vows and 
wild oaths as to how deeply and truly he loved her. 

Kate listened to him, looking at him steadily the while, a 
glance that he remembered in after days, and feared. 

‘'I am a good hater,” she said, “no one better, and I think 
I could love just as well as I can hate. If I once say that I 
shall love you, remember that you had better rouse an angry 
lioness than enrage me. You will have to be true to me all my 
life.” 

“Why, Kate, who in the world could I ever love one-half so 
much ? Why should I not be true to you ? I have never liked 
any one else, and never shall. ” 

Kate laid her strong hand on his. 

“I liked you,” she said, composedly, “the first day I ever 
saw you. I say yes, I am quite willing to be your wife. ” 

And Rob, kissing the blooming face, believed himself to be 
almost in fairy-land. There was no one, he declared, in the 
whole wide world so happy as himself. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

“l LIKE HANDSOME PRESENTS, TOO.” 

They had been engaged just one month, and during that 
time Jane Elster had hardly seen her son. She knew that, he 
was what the simple peasantry round Croston called “court- 
ing” some one — Rob had not as }'€t confided in her who that 
some one was. 




LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


177 


She was in some measure thankful, feeling sure that while his 
attention was so busily engaged in love-making he would forget 
all about Verner. But she was mistaken — that little matter lay 
in abeyance; just then Rob had something else to do. 

He was walking one day through the Home Meadow with 
Kate, when she turned to him suddenly. 

“Rob,” she said, “I never had but one girl friend I cared 
for, and that was Carrie Hope ; and do you know Carrie Hope 
is going to be married.?” 

“ That is right, ” said Rob, “the more marriages, the more 
happiness. ” 

“Her lover gave her a ring yesterday — a ring with fine red 
stones in it ; she showed it to me ; and a chain all of gold. ” 

“He does not love her better than I love you,” said Rob, 
jealously. 

“I do not know. I like handsome presents, too. I should 
like a ring — a better one than hers.” 

Then Rob puzzled himself as to where he should get a ring, 
and how much it would cost ; for Kate to want anything he 
could not give her was gall and wormwood to him — was not, 
indeed, to be borne. 

“You shall have a ring, darling,” he said; “and you shall 
pay me for it in kisses. ” 

“That will be as I choose,” said the beauty, imperiously; 
“but, Rob, it must be very nice to have a lover who can give 
rings and ear-rings. ” 

Rob looked very dark and jealous. 

“Do you care so much for those things.?” he asked. 

“Of course I do. All women adore them. I am like the 
rest of my sex. ” 

So Rob determined, come what might, she should have them. 
He asked his mother for money, but Jane told him he had al- 
ready had so much, he could have no more. ^ 

“Get it for me,” he said, “where you get your own.” 

And Jane Elster s face turned white with fear, yet she deemed 


178 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


it wise to make no reply. Rob had no rest, no peace, no hap- 
piness; he pondered night and day where he could get the 
money from. At last he resolved to write to Verner. 

There was a jeweler’s shop in Croston, where, for three 
guineas, he could buy a ring with any amount of red stones, 
and ear-rings that shone like the sun. 

Verner must send him three guineas. So Rob wrote and 
asked him, and the letter reached Avon wold while Verner was 
there. 

He sent it cheerfully, pleased to comply with his brother’s re- 
quest, although, do what he would, he could not love that 
brother as much as his sensitive conscience told him he ought 
to do. 

Rob went at once to the jeweler’s and bought the coveted 
treasures. He had vowed to himself that he would not see 
Kate again until he could gratify her wish. It was in his power 
now, and he hastened with a light heart to the farm. He 
thought her joy the prettiest thing he had ever seen in his life. 
Kate, so coy, so undemonstrative, flung her arms round his 
neck and kissed his face until his cheeks flushed. 

‘'You are a lover, Rob! These are twice as handsome as 
Carrie’s. How she will look at them ! I am so glad, so 
proud.” 

“You shall have finer things than these, Kate, some day,” 
he said ; for her praises delighted him. 

He had never been so charmed, so flattered, so fascinated in 
his life. It was quite a novelty for him to be called generous, 
and thanked for giving. His heart swelled with a sense of 
keen satisfaction. 

“Ah! Kate,” he said, proudly; “you have a better chance 
than Carrie Hope, after all. She will only be a grocer’s wife, 
and you do not know what may be in store for you. ” 

‘ ‘ What is it she asked. 

“I must not tell you,” he replied; “but it is just on the 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 " SEC RE T. 


179 

cards that you may be a gentleman’s wife, Kate, and neither of 
us ever have to work at all.” 

“I should like that,” she said. “After all, farming is not 
very pleasant. I am sure I should make* as good a lady as any 
one else.” 

“Far better,” cried Rob. “I never saw a lady with brighter 
eyes than yours, Kate. ” 

“Rob,” she said, “won’t you tell me how it is to be.?” 

“I cannot just yet, only I think — I am not quite sure, mind 
you ; but I thi^^k I am on the trail of a secret.” 

“A secret!” cried Kate, and her dark eyes flashed. “Oh, 
Rob, tell it to me !” 

“I do not know it myself, I only guess at it. If I do find it 
out, Kate, you may be quite sure that I shall tell you.” 

“But how will it make you a gentleman and keep us without 
work .?” asked the girl, anxiously. 

“Because of the price I shall get for it. If it be what I 
think, Kate, people will gladly pay me hundreds a year to keep 
it a secret still.” 

“I see, Rob,” she continued, whispering mysteriously. “Is 
it a murder.?” 

He laughed aloud. 

“No. What a fancy, Kate I Nothing like it.” 

“You will be sure to tell me when you know yourself.?” 

“You may rest assured of that,” said Rob. 

“No man ever keeps a secret from the woman he loves,” 
said Kate, holding up her face again for him to kiss. 

Then her mood suddenly changed. 

“If 3T)u tried,” she said, “to keep a secret from me, I would 
tear it from you, even should I tear your very heart with it.” 

“My beautiful tigress!” said Rob, caressing her. 

The girl smiled. 

“You have just found the right name for me,” she said ; “I 
am a tigress. It is in me to do anything desperate and cruel if 
I were driven to it. ” 


LADY DA MED ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


i8o 

“You would never be cruel to me,” said Rob, “because I 
love you.” 

“Never, while you do love me ; if you fail me, look well to 
yourself ” 

And, strange to say, instead of repelling him and causing him 
fear, Rob loved her all the more. She, the proud, half-savage 
beauty that no one else could tame, loved him. It was some- 
thing to be proud of 

But from this moment a new spirit took possession of Robert 
Elster. He must make good his boast to Kate. Up to this 
time his ruling passion had been laziness, now it was ambition. 
He did not care so much now about living without work as he 
cared to have money to dazzle Kate, to make her look up to 
him, .to hear more of that delicious praise and flattery that had 
made his heart beat and his pulse thrill. 

• Money ! money ! was the one cry that rose night and day 
from his heart to his lips. Then Rob had a very bad habit of 
day-dreaming. He liked to saunter off into the meadows, and 
lie down under the shade of spreading trees, then give himself 
up to a kind of waking vision. 

/What he should do, if he had money ; how he should buy a 
large house — furnish it — buy horses, wine, everything that he 
liked best ; marry Kate, and load her with fine dresses and jew- 
els. How he would lord it over the rest of the world, and en- 
joy himself Then he would arouse himself to remember that 
it was but a dream. 

His whole soul longed with a fierce longing for money. He 
must have it — no matter how he got it. If he had to wring the 
life-blood from a human heart, still, it must be his. 

His only difficulty was how to begin his operations. As for 
talking to his mother, Rob saw that it was altogether useless; 
he should simply frighten her to death, but do no good with her. 
S\e would never reveal anything, arid, if he did frighten her to 
deahy how would it be with the secret } 

Rob grew pale and thin : he could not bear to be baffled ; 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


Si 


but how to set about the discovery of a secret so well kept might 
have puzzled a wiser head than his. 

He tried to shape his vague thoughts into order. His sus- 
picion was of Verner — that Verner was not Jane Elster’s son, 
but the son of some one who paid handsomely for the keeping 
of the secret. That was what he suspected ; how was he to find 
out whether it were true.? 

There was no one in Croston who had known anything of his 
mother until she came to live there. It would be quite useless 
to seek information there. She had come to Croston with two 
little childran ; every one knew that. One was an infant in 
arms, the other a little toddling boy, not quite a year difference 
between them. 

He had heard that story very often ; it was no help to him. 
If there was any secret about Verner, it must have happened be- 
fore his mother came to Croston. 

He must find out where she lived, go there, and make inqui- 
ries. But how find it out .? Asking his mother was simply use- 
less ; she had refused to tell him. He could not get the infor- 
mation from her, do as he would ; it was no use trying. So 
that, at the very commencement of his scheme, there stood be- 
fore him this difficulty, which was like a steep, blank wall he 
could not climb or look over. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 
rob’s scheme. 


“That coat is the very identical thing,” said Rob Elster, as 
he contemplated his figure in the small cracked glass. “ What 


i 82 


LADY DAMEJR^S SECRET, 


do they call the Prince of Wales’ tailor? — Poole. Well, Mr. 
Poole could not have turned out anything better. ” 

A great event in Rob’s life had happened — he had a new 
great-coat — the carrying out of his plans demanded it — and he 
had by turns coaxed, threatened, persuaded, and bribed his 
mother until she consented. The result was the masterpiece 
with which he appeared so highly delighted. 

He flattered himself now that his dress was unexceptionable ; 
everybody who saw him must take him for a gentleman, and, as 
such, he would receive all the respect and homage due to the 
title. 

“After all,” said Rob, “the coat makes the man, people may 
say what they like.” 

He walked down to the farm to try the result of his new ac- 
quisition on Kate, and was charmed to find that Kate, who gen- 
erally held all such matters in abhorrence, looked impressed. 
That gave Rot confidence. 

“Very soon, now, Kate,” he said, “I shall be able to tell 
you something that you will be pleased to hear.” 

Kate smiled, turned her damask cheek for him to kiss, and 
Rob was in the highest spirits. 

An idea of great magnitude had occurred to him. He Had 
spent whole days and nights in trying to conceive some idea by 
which he could invent the means of discovering the name of 
the place where his father lived, and where he had been killed. 

If he could find out that, his fortune was made. He hadbut 
to go there and make inquiries, ascertain all about his mother, 
and then, to borrow a phrase from our accomplished detectives, 
act upon the information received. 

But how find it ? His mother could not be induced to speak ; 
he might as well have asked her to fly. He could get no word 
from her ; but the grand idea that came to him was this : 

Surely every accident was chronicled in the newspapers. The 
killing of a railway guard was not such a common occurrence 
in those days as in these — a little more was made of it ; perhaps 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRET. 


83 


human life was more valuable, and men shuddered more over 
the terrible end of their fellow-men. 

If he could go to London, and at some place there get to see 
a file of old newspapers, he might possibly find it out. He had 
•heard that at some coffee-house — was it Peek's, Garraway’s, or 
what .? — a file of the Times, from its very commencement, was 
kept. He had but to find out the year in whieh the accident 
happened, and then look the papers through. 

If Jane Elster had been either a wiser or a more suspicious 
woman, she would have seen, in his constant conversation about 
his father, room for fear. 

He asked endle^ questions about him, all unsuspiciously an- 
swered by the woman who had loved him so well. 

‘‘It comes rather hard on any one like me never to have 
known anything about a father. If he had -lived, mother, I 
should say he would have been very proud of me. ” 

“Indeed he would, Rob." 

And fhe tears stood in Jane Elster's eyes. 

“ Did he ever see me at all.?" he continued, artfully. 

“Yes. You were — let me see — how old when he died ? Oh, 
Rob, I forget. You should not tease me so. You know that 
the recollection of my trouble takes my reason from me." 

For Jane had been, unconsciously, about to tell the truth, 
and say : 

“You were only two months old when he died," when sud- 
denly she remembered that Verner passed as his younger brother. 

He saw her hesitation, confusion, and fright, and did not fail 
to take advantage of it. 

“lam twenty-two years old, I suppose?" he said. 

“Yes; but, Rob," she moaned, “why do you tease me so? 
Why are you always asking me questions, and annoying me so ?" 

But Rob knew enough, now, for his purpose. 

“Depend upon it," he said to himself, “that I was a baby 
when he died, and that he knew nothing of Master Verner at 
all." 


LADY DAMER ’ S SECRE T. 


184 

“Twenty-one years ago, we will say ; that brings it to 18 — 
Now I will soon make out the rest.” 

Rob wrote again to his brother — this time it was for ten 
pounds, not three, and Verner, who was still at Avonwold, be- 
gan to wonder in what words he must defend himself against his 
brothers encroachments. 

He sent him the ten pounds, telling him that he must not 
ask for any more just yet.” 

“lam staying at Avonwold,” he wrote, “and as you know, 
Rob, one cannot be at a place like this without money. I have 
hardly enough to go on with. ” 

To which Rob returned an answer : ^ 

“That no one with a fairy godmother ought ever to want 
anything. ” 

“Where is Avonwold he wondered. “If I find anything 
out, it may be that I shall have to see Verner.” 

By dint of inquiries he discovered that Avonwold w'as the 
family seat of Lord Darner, and Rob’s face expressed much as- 
tonishment. 

“That young man seems to make his way among great peo- 
ple,” he said. “ I wonder how long I might know the Darners 
of Avonwold before they would think of inviting me to stay with 
them ? It is a very unfair world. ” 

But Rob had his money, and all things seemed to smile 
upon him. 

“lam going to London, mother,” he said, one morning; “I 
have heard of work there very likely to suit me, and I am going 
to try for it. ” 

Jane Elster’s face cleared. 

“If that were true,” she thought, “ it were a very good sign 
— there could be none better. If Rob once had work to do 
that he liked, he would give over teasing her about Verner and 
his father. ” 

She was positively persuaded into giving him a few pounds 
more, knowing nothing of Verner’s gift, and Rob, highly satis- 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRET. 185 

fied, started on the expedition that was to have such disastrous 
consequences. 

He was rather startled by the vast extent of London, its won- 
derful streets and buildings, its myriads of human beings. 

“I ought to live in a place like this," he thought ; “ there is 
no scope for me in Croston. ” 

And Rob, in his new great-coat, walked the streets of Lon- 
don with an air of affable independence that would have been 
highly amusing to any one who knew him. 

The day after his arrival, h? found the coffee-house of which 
he was in search, and went in. He was not given to emotion, 
but when at length he sat down before the huge files of paper, 
one of which contained the clew to the secret he sought, Rob’s 
heart beat high with emotion. 

There did come over him a sort of feeling that he would be 
doing better to leave it all alone, that the secret so carefully 
kept had better remain a secret still. 

That was his better nature whispering to him ; but Rob sel- 
dom listened to such whispers. 

Life without work ; plenty of money, and nothing to do for 
it ; independence ; luxury ; Kate for his wife ; himself the en- 
vy and admiration of every young man in Croston. 

All these ideas overcame him — honor, honesty, were all as 
nothing ; self-interest, greed, gained the day. 

Rob opened the files ; the papers for each year were arranged 
according to date, from the first of January to the last day of 
December ; they were perfect — not one was missing. 

He looked carefully through January. It was hard work, for 
Rob was not fond of reading; the small print puzzled him. 

January, February, and March occupied him for many hours. 
He was so desirous of knowing the truth that he did not omit 
one line. Every paragraph headed “Fatal Accident" had an 
irresistible attraction for him ; but there was no record of the 
name his father bore. 

Rob felt slightly disgusted. The task had seemed to him so 


i86 


LAD Y DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


easy ; he had fancied there was nothing to do, save look down 
the long columns, and find out the truth. 

But file after file, and no result — he had not bargained for 
that. Rob began to feel weary. 

“I shall give it up,” he said, “if I have to pore hour after 
hour over this kind of print.” 

Rob disliked work in all its branches, but if he disliked one 
branch more than another, it was reading and writing. So, af- 
ter four hours of what seemed to him endless labor, he went out 
to dine. 

Then he declared to himself that his eyes ached with fatigue, 
and he saw upon the walls flaming placards, announcing a 
grand sensational play. He resolved to go and see it, and from 
that night Rob dated a new feature in his life. He had, never 
been to a theater, and his ecstasy was unbounded. * 

‘ ‘ I will go every night when I have money, ” he said to him- 
self. “ No more quiet life in Croston for me. I did not know 
such delights existed in the world.” 

And his love for the theater only stimulated him to make 
fresh exertions ; he resolved to begin his search early the next 
morning, and keep at it all day. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 
rod’s success. 

One file after another Rob waded through to no purpose. He 
came to April, i8 — , and some instinct told him to look care- 
fully down those columns. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


187 


Could he believe his own eyes? Was he dreaming? Were 
the letters playing him a trick, or did he really hold the clew to 
this secret in liis hands at last ? 

Here was a paragraph ; red lights seemed to flash before his 
eyes ; his brain whirled ; a sound as of rushing waters filled his 
ears ; his hands trembled. Rob was unhinged. 

“Fatal Accident. — One of those fatal accidents that happen 
at times on our railways has just cast a gloom over the pretty 
and picturesque town of Riversmead, in Hertfordshire. A rail- 
way guard who had been for some years in the employ of the 
company, John Elster, was killed while crossing the line at 
Riversmead. The guard was just preparing to start with his 
train when he saw something that required his attention. He 
was crossing the line when an engine, that he had neither seen 
nor heard, coming up behind him knocked him down and 
killed him on the spot. The body was fearfully mutilated. 
Much sympathy is felt for his young widow.’' 

He read it, and re-read it — the son of the man whose death 
was so briefly told. It was his own father of whom that para- 
graph spoke, his own father who had suffered the- agony of that 
terrible death, and yet no thought of pity occurred to him. If 
the story had been told of a stranger he could not have read it 
more coldly. In fact, its pathos, the thought of the strong 
young life so suddenly ended, the thought of the young widow s 
sorrow never occurred to him. 

He closed the book hastily and rose from the table. The air 
of the room seemed to stifle him —he must go out into the fresh 
air, and have time to collect his thoughts. 

He went hastily out of the coffee-house, down one of the 
quietest streets he could find. He had the clew at last ; it was 
just as much as he could do to keep from shouting aloud in his 
triumph ; he had found it — it was his own. 

Already it seemed to him that his pockets were lined with 
gold — that he was living in some grand house with Kate, going 
to the theater every night, enjoying himself to the very best of 
his abilities. He could do all this, now that he had the clew. 


i88 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


Riversmead ! He laughed aloud as he fancied if he were to 
return suddenly, and whisper that word in his mother’s ear, how 
she would start, how white her face would grow, how alarmed 
she would be. The idea seemed to him so irresistibly comic 
that he shouted with laughter — then he recollected himself 

His money would not last forever, let him do as he would. 
He had better go to Riversmead at once. 

He went to Euston Square, and found there was no train 
until two in the afternoon. There was no difficulty in the jour- 
ney, for the train passed the station at Riversmead. 

Rob fortified himself with an excellent dinner, a bottle of 
sherry, a bag of sandwiches, and started. Perhaps the passen- 
gers in the same carriage wondered why he smiled so coniinual- 
ly to himself, why he seemed so excited, so delighted and 
pleased. 

‘‘Riversmead!” shouted the porter; “ change here for Mor- 
den Ripley.” 

And Rob left the carriage. Will you believe, reader, that he 
never even remembered his father had been killed here.? Some 
sons would have shrunk in horror from the sight of the rails 
that had been reddened by a fathers blood. 

Not so Rob ; no such recollection occurred to him. He was 
at Riversmead, and Riversmead held the secret he had sworn to 
himself to unravel. 

Ah, me ! he passed by the Railway Hotel where, years ago, 
Florence Charteris had lain in her agony ; it was well those old 
walls could not speak, or they would have told him the very 
secret he was there to discover. 

He went out into the old-fashioned streets, through which 
Hope Charteris had driven with despair in her heart. He 
looked around ; perhaps he had thought to find the secret writ- 
ten on the walls — but it was not there. He took lodgings in a 
small, pretty house in a quiet back 'street — a sitting-room and a 
bedroom. When tliC landlady asked him how long he should 
be there, he said : 


LAD Y DAMER ’S SECRET. 1 89 

“I do not know; I am here on business, and I must stay 
until it is finished/' 

He went to work with wonderful caution ; he counted over 
his money and laid aside enough to take him back to Croston. 
Then he divided the remaining into many portions ; each one 
must last him so long, and he determined to be prudent. 

“Farewell to bitter beer and cigars until I have the means 
for purchasing as many as I like of them,” sighed Rob. 

With such a prize in view, it would not be difficult to abstain 
from his dearest delights for some short time. 

He was at Riversmead. The first half of his scheme had so 
far prospered; but now that was there, what was his next 
step.? A night’s rest and reflection taught him his lesson. 

He must go to the station and try to make friends there. For 
once he remembered his father ; there might be somebody em- 
ployed there whp had known him. So about nine o’clock in 
the morning the porters were regaled with the sight of Rob in 
his new great-coat. He walked up and down the platform, try- 
ing to look dignified and indifferent. Then he went to a gray- 
headed man who was busily engaged in cleaning a carriage. 

‘ ‘ Have you been at this station long .?” he asked. 

“A matter of six years, sir,” replied the man, touching his 
cap, and immediately repenting the civility when his practiced 
eyes detected the style of person who addressed him. 

“Six years,” repeated Rob; “how long has the station- 
master been here?” 

‘ ‘ Not twelve months. I have seen three fresh masters in this 
short time. ” 

‘ ‘ Do you know if any of the porters have been long engaged 
at this station ?” asked Rob. 

“I cannot tell ; none that I know of.” 

“I have a particular reason for asking the question My 
father was a railway guard, and he was killed here some twenty 
years ago.” 

“You do not seem to feel it much,” said the gray-haired por- 


190 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


ter. “If I am killed here, I hope my sons will speak differ- 
ently about me.” 

“Well, you know, I was only a baby two months old, but 
you are mistaken — I am sorry, and the wish to hear something 
about my poor father has brought me here.” 

And Rob assumed the most doleful expression he could 
manage. 

“I should like to meet some one who knew him and could 
talk to me about him. I know he is buried here in the old 
cemetery, and I should like to put up a tombstone, just to show 
my respect.” 

An invention that had suddenly occurred to Rob, and seemed 
to please the old porter highly. He stood still for a few min- 
utes. 

“Twenty years ago,” he said ; “that is a long time. I think 
most of our men are new ones; stay, let me think — there is old 
Mr. Bond, he is in the left luggage room, and he has been there, 
I should say, nearly twenty-five years. What was your father’s 
name ?” 

“John Elster ” 

“Ah, well, you go to old Mr. Bond ; if any one remembers 
anything about it he will be the man. ” 

Promising to see him again, Rob walked across the station. 
He saw the “Left Luggage Office,” and going in found an old 
man busily at work, to whom Rob spoke in his best manner. 

“ Mr. Bond, may I ask the favor of a few minutes’ conversa- 
tion with you ?” he said. 

And the old man looked up in wonder at the very polite 
words. 

“I hope,” continued Rob, with an extra dash of politeness, 
“that I am not intruding upon you, but I have been referred to 
you as one of the most experienced men on the station.” 

Very adroitly chosen was the compliment. The old man’s 
face cleared, and he gave his whole attention to Rob. 

“My father, John Elster, was a railway guard, and was killed 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


191 

by an accident twenty years ago, on this very spot. I am John 
Elster’s son, and have come from a long distance to make in- 
quiries about him.” 

“Yes,” said the old man, “I remember John Elster well. I 
stood by when he was killed, poor fellow ! and I was one of 
those who went to see his poor widow and break the news to 
her.” 

“Rob’s face was a study, between his endeavor to look sor- 
rowful and his joy at finding some one who could answer every 
question he asked. 

“I am going to put up a grave-stone for my poor father,” he 
said, and Mr. Bond looked deeply interested. 

But further conversation was impossible ; there was a crowd 
of clamorous people, all wanting attention at once. 

“I see you are busy,” said Rob; “lam staying at No. 5 
Charles Terrace ; come and dine with me this evening — say at 
seven — and then we can talk these matters over.” 

Mr. Bond gladly consented, and Rdb went away delighted 
with his morning’s work. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE DINNER AT CHARLES TERRACE. 

It was the first time in his life that Rob ever had anything to 
do with the ordering of a dinner, and his delight and import- 
ance knew no bounds. 

He consulted the landlady, who advised fish, a veal cutlet, a 
fowl, and a lemon pudding. The magnitude of the slight- 
ly appalled him. f 


192 


LADY DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


“Will it cost very much ?” he asked, dubiously. 

“Oh, of course, sir; if money is an object, why I can fry a 
steak. I judged from you appearanco that expense was no con- 
sideration. ” 

A compliment that made Rob reckless ; he went to the ex- 
treme length of a bottle of port and a bottle of sherry. As the 
time for dinner drew near, he never wearied of watching the 
preparations, and at seven sharp the old man came. 

“Dear me, how strange — I cannot help thinking of it — ^you 
are John Elster’s son ! I never thought I should hear his name 
again. We were great friends ; but I lost sight of his widow — 
she left Riversmead years ago.” 

His eyes glistened as Rob poured him out a glass of sherry. 
He had known better days, and was still quite capable of ap^ 
predating a good glass of wine. Then they sat down to dinner 
together, and Rob plied his guest with all the delicacies at his 
command. 

“And your mother, sir,” said Mr. Bond, when the landlady’s 
chef d' oeuvre, the lemon pudding, appeared — “how is she !” 

“Very well. I did not tell her of my journey. The fact is, 
she feels my father’s death so acutely still, that we never refer to 
it. ” 

‘ ‘ Ah, poor thing ; I remember the day — she dropped down 
like one dead when I told her what was the matter. I suppose, 
sir, she has never re-married .?” 

His eyes so plainly asked how the poor widow whom he had 
known so young and helpless had managed to bring up her son 
so well, that Rob could not fail to understand his mining. 

“The fact is,” he said, grandly, “that my mother stepped 
into a nice little property, and is very comfortable. ” 

Mr. Bond looked duly impressed. 

“And that little property will, I suppose, descend to you, 
sir? Ah, well, take care of it. I was worth twenty thousand 
pounds once, and I wasted it all. Now, in my old age, I have 
to work hard for a very poor living. Take care of it.” 


LADY DA MED ' S SEC RE T. 193 

“Trust me for that,’^ said Rob, with a wink. “ I know how 
to treat my friends well, and 1 know how to enjoy myself, but 
I know something better still, and that is, how to take care of 
my own. But I want you to tell me about my poor father, 
Mr. Bond; if I mention his name to my mother, she turns 
white, and begins to cry. You knew him very well, I sup- 
pose r 

“Yes, I used to go and smoke m/ pipe with him of even- 
ings ; he lived in a pretty little Cottage in what is called Love 
Lane. I used to think him one of the happiest men in the 
world, your mother made him so comfortable.” 

‘ ‘ That she would, ” and then Rob began to wonder how, 
without asking the question direct, he could find out whether 
Verner was his mother’s son or not. 

“How long now do you suppose my father had been mar- 
ried, when he met with this accident?” 

“I do not know. I could not really say. He was ma.nied 
when he came here.” 

“It was providential that my mother had not more children,” 
said Rob, and the old man agreed with him, though he did not 
say how many children there were, and Rob began to feel an- 
xious. Surely all this sumptuous dinner was not to be wasted. 

“I never ask my mother any questions about that time,” he 
said ; “but I suppose I was her only child.” 

Mr. Bond looked at him in wonder, and Rob saw the won- 
der. 

“From a word or two that my mother has half hinted at dif- 
ferent times,” he said, “ I fancied she had lost a child as well as 
a husband here.” 

“ If so, it must have been before she came to live at Rivers- 
mead ; but even that could not be, for I remember when you 
were born your father would have a bottle of whisky for us to 
drink your health, and you were only three months old when 
he died.” 

The old man did not see the strange flush that crimsoned 


194 


LAD Y DAMER SECRE T. 


Rob’s face, nor how his breath came in thick, hot gasps, and his 
hands trembled. 

This was what he had long wanted to know. He was right, 
then, in his suspicions — Verner was not his mother’s son. 

“I must have been mistaken, then,” he said; “or perhaps 
she took in some little child to nurse.?” 

“Not that I know of. I never saw but one child with her, 
and that was you. ” 

“Then it is nothing more than an idle fancy of mine,” he 
said. “ How did the railway company treat my mother .? They 
ought to have given her a pension for life, but I suppose they 
did not.” 

‘ ‘ That is not the fashion of rich companies, ” said the old 
man. “They paid the expenses of poor John Elster’s funeral, 
and they gave his widow ten or twenty pounds, but no pension 
— that I am sure of” 

“ Then I am on the right track,” thought Rob ; “the money 
she lives on is the money that comes from Verner’s friends, and 
they must be well off to pay so handsomely. Now, the next 
thing is to find out who Verner is.” 

“I am glad that my mother does not need their charity,” he 
said. ‘ ‘ I suppose you have a great many rich families about 
here, Mr. Bond .?” 

“Not so many; the people round Riversmead are most of 
them farmers.” 

“I was just wondering whether a story I heard, as I came 
along in the train, was true,” said Rob, in a musing, thought- 
ful tone. 

“What was it, sir .? I know all the Riversmead stories as well 
as I know my alphabet.” 

“ I could not catch the names, nor, indeed, the whole of the 
story ; but it was of some young lady, either in Riversmead or 
near it, who had been — well, what the world calls unfortunate, 
and had given the child to some woman to nurse. I could no<- 
hear it all.” 

/ 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


195 


An invention upon which Rob prided himself amazingly ; he 
considered that he was leading up to the subject in a most skill- 
ful manner/’ 

“ I really ought to have been a lawyer,” he said to himself ; 
“my talents are quite wasted.” 

But Mr. Bond shook his head gravely. 

“I have never heard one word of such a story,” he said ; 
“never a word. Those kind of things do not often happen 
here. Our Riverspiqad girls are good girls ; and, as for our la- 
dies, I can answer for it, there is no shameful tale to be told of 
any one of them.” 

“Perhaps if I had heard it all, it might mean something very 
different. Where is Love Lane, Mr. Bond 

“ Just outside Riversmead ; there are several pretty cottages ; 
your father lived in the first.” 

And now, having obtained all the information it was in the 
old man’s power to give, Rob looked at his watch, as a genteel 
kind of hint that the interview was over. Then Mr. Bond, with 
many thanks for his hospitality, and many wishes that they 
might soon meet again, took his leave. 

Rob was triumphant so far ; he had succeeded wonderfully. 
Verner was not his mother’s son, and the money she had to live 
upon did not come from the railway company. But now there 
remained, perhaps, the most difficult part of his undertaking. 
He had to find out who Verner was, and, having reached this 
stage, his difficulties increased. 

He rose early the next morning, and went down to Love 
Lane. The pretty little cottages looked bright in the sunshine. 
No sentimental ideas of the house where he was born troubled 
Rob. 

Who lived there now that had known his mother twenty years 
ago ? It was long to live in the same house, and he had hardly 
any hope that he should find old neighbors as old friends. 

But he did his best. He began to play with the children, 
and make friends with them ; then the mother came out, desir- 


196 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


ous of knowing who the young man was, that he seemed so 
deeply interested in Love Lane. 

A comely young matron, engaged in knitting stockings 
while she took care of her children, spoke to him at last : 

“You be a stranger here she said. 

“No,” said Rob, with a smile, “not quite; I was born in 
Love Lane, and I have come from far away to see the old 
place. ” 

“Born where, Harriet.?” shrieked an old woman. 

“In Love Lane, mother,” replied the young matron. 

“Then ask him his name. I have lived here nearly forty 
years, and I know all those who have lived or died here. ” 

Rob, assuming his most winning manner, went up to the old 
woman. 

“Then you must have known my dear mother, Jane Li- 
ster.?” 

A flame of eager curiosity shone in the dim eyes. 

“Of course I did. I went to help her when her husband 
was killed. Jane Lister ! That was the woman who puzzled 
me. I went to see her one day, and she had one child in the 
cradle ; I went the next day, and she had two. ” 

“One was my foster-brother; my mother took him in to 
niirse,” said Rob. “Did she never tell you his name.?” 

“ No ; she went away, and never said good-by to me, though 
we had been neighbors so long. But come in ; I should like 
to hear about her, though she did not trust me. ” 




i 




LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


197 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

A STONE WALL. 

“ Sit down,” said the old woman, with cordial invitation, and 
Rob, who never objected to being thought much of, complied 
with her wish, and sat down. 

“So you are Jane Elsters boy. I always said that before I 
died we should hear more of her. Do you know that I have 
sat in this chair near twenty years, wondering all the time where 
the strange child came from that she got to nurse ?” 

“You are sure it was not her own.?” asked Rob, with a smile, 
yet the question was a very serious one to him. 

“Of course it was not. You were only three months old; 
and the strange baby I saw in your cradle was not a week old:” 

“Why did you not ask my mother .?” said Rob, who did 
not wish at present to tell that he himself was quite ignorant 
also. 

“I did ask her many and many a time ; but she could keep 
a secret, could Jane Elster. She kept that. She never had but 
one answer for me, and that was : 

“ ‘Never mind the little stranger, Mrs. Robinson; we will 
not talk about him.’ 

“And she had a way -with her that you could not help mind- 
ing. She was a proud woman.” 

“And you look like a clever one,” said Rob. “Did you 
never find out who the child was, or where he came from ?” 

“No, never,” replied the old woman ; “and I do not like 
being baffled ; even to this hour I am curious to know. ” 

“You could have made inquiries.” 

“So I jlid ; but no one knew anything about it. Of course, 
there must have been some secret. If it had been the child of 


198 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


\ 

an honest mother, it would not have been hidden in Jane El- 
ster’s house.” 

“There you are right, ” said Rob. “ Or perhaps it was the 
child of some noble family, who had an object to serve in get- 
ting rid of it.” 

The old woman shook her head. 

“ I thought of that, too ; but it was not likely to be. How 
would noble families come to hear of Jane Elster.? She had not 
lived so long in these parts ; besides ” 

“Besides what.?” asked Rob, for Mrs. Robinson had paused. 

“ Why, I took the trouble to ask all kinds of questions, then. 
I thought, you know, if one neighbor made a good thing of a 
secret, another might share it ; but I found out nothing. The 
child must have dropped from the clouds. There are the Harts 
< — Lord Hart, of Coverswell, but his wife had three sons, all 
grown up — no child to be hidden there. The Thornes, of 
Dame Abbey, have a family of young sons and daughters. The 
Lurdells have no children, but the nephew is heir. So, with all 
the rest, I am quite sure it did not belong to this neighbor- 
hood.” 

Rob tried hard to conceal the disappointment that was cloud- 
ing his face. 

“Did you never see any strangers coming to the cottage?” 
he asked. 

“No; we kept — at least, I did— a strict lookout night and 
day, but no one ever came near. I never had such a puzzle in 
my life as that child. ” 

“And nothing has been heard since?” he said. 

“No. We got up one morning, and your mother’s cottage 
was empty. She had gone away without saying one word to us, 
not even good-by, and I have not heard of her since. She is 
doing well, I should say, by the look of you. 

Now, Rob was uncertain whether to give his full .confidence 
to the old lady or not. Whether to tell her that he had come 
down purposely to make inquiries on this same subject, or 


LAD V DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 


199 

whether to l?t her believe he knew all about his mother’s af- 
fairs. 

It was evident there was no more information to be obtained 
here. Perhaps it would be better to keep his own counsel. So, 
though much disappointed, Rob continued to smile with an 
air of great superiority, that he saw impressed Mrs. Robin- 
son. 

“ No one else knew my mother. I suppose these people will 
be new-comers ?” 

‘ ‘ No one knew her but myself and Mrs. Lambton, but she 
died two years ago. ” 

‘•Well,” said Rob, “lam glad to have seen you, and shall 
tell my mother how well and hearty you are looking. I must 
go, for I ha.ve many matters on hand.” 

An expression of great disappointment came over the with- 
ered face. 

“Are you going without telling me what I wanted to know, 
after all? — whose child was it?” 

“ I cannot tell my mother’s secrets,” he replied, with a light 
laugh. “ I shall see you again, and then we can settle it.” 

So saying, Rob went away, leaving a great amount of curios- 
ity and gossip behind him. He returned to his lodgings de- 
pressed and dispirited. 

“ I have walked up to a stone wall,” he said, “ and no mis- 
take. I cannot see my way any further. If all this money has 
been wasted, I shall be wild.” 

But he really began to fear that it was so. He had made 
several discoveries, but they amounted to nothing. Verner was 
not his mo:her’s son, that was one certainty ; another certainty 
was, that she had never received any pension from the railway 
company, therefore she must be receiving money from some 
other source, an3 that source could be no other than Verner’s 
friends. 

If he could find them out, he, too, would draw money from 


200 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 ' SEC RE T. 


tlic same source — enough to live on, to keep him as a gentle- 
man, and Kate as a lady, as long as they lived. 

But how was he to find out these friends — who they were, 
where they lived } Rob had read many romances in his day ; 
he was perfectly familiar wdth the general run of heroes. 

“Suppose,” he said to himself, “that Verner is the real heir 
to a great estate and a large fortune, and he has been put out of 
the road that some one else may enjoy it, then, if I could only 
find the secret out, I would swear to keep it, and I should have 
my share of the booty. It is only fair that I should ; my owm 
wits have made out that there is a secret, and I deserve some- 
thing for that.” 

Oh, Lady Darner ! Lady Darner ! wrapped in magnificence 
as in a garment — splendid, serene, beautiful, a queen among 
women, a worshiped wife, a proud mother, a queen of society 
— how little you dreamed of the serpent on your track ! How 
little you thought that there was one in the wide world whose 
every hope w'as bent on finding out the secret you would have 
died to keep ! How little you foresaw- the terrible doom draw- 
ing nearer and nearer — the fatal web closing round you as cer- 
tainly as the sun rises or sets ! 

Rob owned to himself that he was baffled. He had gone so 
far — he could go no further. He lingered many days at Riv- 
er.smead. He went everywhere, but he never heard one word 
of what referred, in the least degree, to his object. 

He did not lay his plans badly ; he took upon himself an air 
of understanding a great deal about horses. He made ac- 
quaintance with sundry coachmen, doctors’ servants, ostlers, 
rightly judging that any piquant little story of wrong-doing 
would be known first to these. 

But never a word. 

He had recourse to his old invention, and repeated the story 
he pretended to have heard in the train. It was all useless. 
There was, indeed, a very enjoyable story of a young lady who 
had run away with her father’s groom, but they had been prop- 


LADY DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


201 


erl/ married, and there was no further scandal. Then Rob 
ventured to say : 

“Ah ! but twenty years ago there was something far worse 
than that happened at Riversmead.” 

He found all eyes fixed on him in silent wonder, and every 
one waiting to hear what he had to tell. 

Then, of course, he had to invent a story, and pretend to re- 
member that it had happened at some other place. In fact, 
there was no possible way of getting over this difficulty. 

As the days passed on, Rob’s face grew darker, and his spir- 
its more depressed. He knew that his little stock of money 
would not last much longer, and, when it was exhausted, he 
must go. 

He had been so very sanguine at first, he had been so elated, 
that the subsequent disappointment was only the greater. 

Was it possible that he must go back to Croston poorer than 
he had left it, having discovered nothing except that his grand 
plans were likely to fall to the ground? How was he to meet 
Kate? He had promised her great news, and he had nothing 
to relate but a miserable failure. 

He had not even a present to give her, for Rob had found 
out that hunting for a secret is very hard work. People require 
a great deal to make them talk. He had spent what he con- 
sidered great sums in wine for Mr. Bond, and gin for Mrs. Rob- 
inson, and, when he came to consider what they had told 
him for it, the whole amounted to nothing. 

“As I have gone so far, I will go still farther,” he said to him- 
self. “There is no more to be learned here, I see. My 
mother shall be forced into telling me the rest, for know it I 
will.” 

If Hope Charteris, who had comforted her sister by telling 
her her secret was dead, had seen the expression of fierce cun- 
ning on the dark, lowering face, she would have trembled for 
the fate of the one she loved best. 


202 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


CH.\PTER XXXII. 

•‘l AM DRIVEN TO IT.” 

Kate’s eyes were looking at him, and he could not help see- 
ing that their glance was full of expectation. He repented bit- 
terly that he had said so much to her on going away. Now 
it was all blank ; he had nothing to give her, and nothing to 
tell. 

She had received him veiy graciously, smiling, and offering 
her face to him, as though she were a queen and he a subject 
admitted to familiar terms, and then she looked at him. Rob 
knew that the look meant, ‘ ‘ What have you brought me, and 
what is your news ?” 

He had nothing to give, and nothing to tell. For a young 
man fond of shining as Rob was, it was an ignoble position, 
and he felt it as such. 

Kate’s bright, dark, gipsy eyes read him as though he had 
been a printed book. 

“You look out of spirits, Rob,” she said, abruptly. “I 
should not imagine you have had a prosperous time of it.” 

“Not very ; it will all come right in time ; but the time is a 
little farther off than I imagined.” 

She looked incredulous. 

“I suppose, after all,” she said, “there is nothing in it. 
You will never be able to make me a lady. Mind you, I do 
not care ; it was not for anything of that kind I first liked you, 
but you should never promise what you cannot perform.” 

“ I can perform all I promised,” he replied, “but not quite 
so quickly as you would like — that is, I mean as I should like. 
Have patience, Katie ; I am sure it will all come right.” 

“What has gone wrong she asked. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


203 


‘‘Suppose a man were out walking, and he came to a dead 
stop, met a blank stone wall r ight in his path, what would he 
do, Kate?” 

“Turn back, I should say, and try another road.” 

“That is just what I am going to do. I know a certain se- 
cret exists, and I thought the way I was going lately would lead 
me to it. Instead of that, I came to the stone wall, Kate, and 
now I must turn back and begin another road. Rely upon it, 
Kate, the road I take next will lead to success. ” 

“ Well, for your sake, I hope so. I must say I do not think 
you will ever do much good at work, Rob, if I may speak my 
mind.” 

“No,” was the complacent reply ; “ I have always felt that I 
was born to be a gentleman. ” 

“There are so many different kinds of gentlemen that, for 
my own part, I almost prefer an honest man.” 

“Ah ! Kate, think how nice you will look dressed all in silks'' 
and satins, and riding in a carriage, with servants waiting upon 
you.” 

Her handsome gipsy face brightened. 

“ I shall like that, Rob ; but will it ever come?” 

“ Have patience, and you will see.” 

Her brown fingers played with the buttons on his coat, and 
Rob knew that she was waiting for his accustomed offering, and 
he had nothing to give her. 

“ I have had a fresh admirer since you went away,” she said. 
“He offered me a gold brooch, but I would not take it. I 
thought, perhaps, you would not like it, Rob.” 

“No, indeed. I should just like to take you away from 
everybody, Kate, so that no one could admire you but me.” 

“I should not like it, Rob. Have you—have you brought 
me anything from London ?” ^ • 

The truth is that Kate Repton, with all her bold beauty and 
half-fierce love, had an eye to the main chance. She never for- 
got herself; she liked to have as much given to her as possible. 


204 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


She would have frowned on the man she loved b'est, if he had 
not brought peace-offerings in the shape of presents. 

Rob perfectly understood this trait ‘ in his lady-love’s char- 
acter. 

“ I have not brought you anything, Katie darling, because I 
only took a certain sum of money with me, and it was all spent 
in making inquiries ; but wait awhile. I saw beautiful brooch- 
es and jewels in the shop-windows — nothing so bright as your 
eyes. You shall have the finest that money can buy.” 

But Rob, though he did his Best, saw that his liege lady was 
not pleased. He tried to atone for having brought no present 
by making his compliments extra strong and sweet, but Kate 
was impracticable. 

“ Have you missed me very much he asked. “I thought 
of you every moment I did not see any one half so handsome 
as you. ” 

Kate was not to be calmed down. She had expected a 
brooch, or something very handsome, from London. Com- 
pliments were not worth much, and could not be worn as jew- 
els could. 

“I am very busy to-night, Rob,” she said, after a pause. 

You can come again in a day or two, when you have time.” 

And with that cool welcome he was obliged to be content 
Rob did not go home in a very enviable frame of mind. He 
had left Riversmead without the information that he had given 
himself so much pains to seek. He was at a dead lock. From 
no one could he discover the least clew as to who Verner was, 
or anything about him. Nor could he at present see his way 
toward obtaining such knowledge. 

His mother had looked disappointed when he returned. She 
asked him anxiously if he had succeeded in getting the work he 
had gone about, and very gruffly R-ob had answered : 

“No.” 

“Well, of course, you know best, Rob, but I do think it a 
great pity to spend so much money on an uncertainty,” 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRET. 


20 ? 


“ It is no uncertainty !” shouted Rob ; and then he refused 
the tea that his mother had prepared for him, and went out to 
meet Kate. 

Kate had not smiled upon him, and he was altogether dissat- 
isfied and unhappy. 

“ My mother must tell me,” he said. “ I shall have to be 
rough with her, but I cannot help it ; between them I am driv- 
en to it. ” 

“Now, Rob,” said his mother, as he re-entered the little cot- 
tage, his face growing dark, and a dull-red fire in his eyes, “do 
put aside your ill temper, and eat your supper.” 

He did not require so much pressing over the savory supper 
as he had done over the tea. When it was ended, his mother 
looked at him. 

“You will not go out again to-night, Rob ?” 

“No,” he replied; “I am going to have a little talk with 
you.” 

“There is nothing like taking a person by surprise,” he 
thought ; and, as he drew his chair nearer to the fire, Rob 
looked up. 

“I say, mother, I know more than you think about that pre- 
cious business of yours at Riversmead. You had better tell me 
the whole truth.” 

She gave a cry that rang in his ears for hours afterward ; her 
face grew deadly, ghastly pale ; she clasped her hands. 

“Oh, my Heaven !” she cried, “what shall I do.?” 

“I think,” continued Rob, reproachfully, “that, knowing I 
am your only son, you might have trusted me. It is rather 
hard for me to find my mother keeping me in the dark.” 

The terrible fear did not die out of her face ; her hands shook, 
her whole frame trembled. 

“What do you know about Riversmead .?” she asked ; “who 
has been telling you ?” 

“I know more than you will like to hear. I know that I 
am the only child you ever had, and that I was but two months 


2o6 


LAD y DAMER SECRE T. 


old when my father died. I know that you have no pension 
from any railway company, but that the money you live on 
comes from Verner’s friends ; and I say it is a great shame, 
mother, that you should keep all this to yourself. ” 

She had ceased to tremble now, and stood before him white ■ 
and calm, with a certain heroism on her face that struck even 
him. 

“ Rob, will you tell me wheie you heard all this ?” 

“No ; that is my secret. You keep yours, and I keep mine. 
The same person who told me that will tell me all the rest, 
when I go to ask ; but I thought I would sooner know the 
truth from you.” 

“Rob,” she asked, with, desperate calmness, “will you tell 
me why you want to know this ?” 

“Yes ; I don’t object to telling the truth when it suits me,” 
said Rob, with a grim smile. “I will tell you. You have 
made a pretty good thing out of this secret yourself — ^you have 
lived upon it, and you have not had a very hard life, either — 
now I think it is my turn to make a little. If they like to pay 
me handsomely, I will keep the secret, as you have done. If 
not, I shall go to those who are willing to pay a higher price. 

I do not care a rap, you know, about principle or honor, or 
anything of that kind. 

A clear light flashed in Jane Elster’s eyes, a certain homely 
dignity came to her that abashed her son. 

“You are, as you said, my only son, Robert Elster, and I 
would sooner have seen you dead than have heard you speak 
as you have done. You may do your worst; the secret that 
was trusted to me / shaR keep! I shall keep it until my death. 
Mind you this — I would rather die in torture, die by inches, 
than betray it. Another thing ; I cannot pretend to tell where 
you have found out what you know, but I know it to be utter- 
ly impossible for you to discover more than you know already. 
Listen again. If you say one word more of this to me, I will 
go away where you will never see me, or hear of me again. I 


LAD V DAMER ’ S SECRE T. 


207 

shall keep my word, Robert Elster, as surely as Heaven hears 
me speak !” 

The only reply to this was a loud bang of the door, as Rob, 
angry beyond measure, left the cottage. 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

CHANGE OF SCENE. 

Lady Darner was the queen of the London season. There 
was no woman so radiantly lovely, so clever, so graceful — none 
with such exquisite manners and perfect address ; her tact and 
talent were beyond all praise. 

Avonwold House was that season the center of all that was 
most brilliant, refined, and attractive in London. Not the least 
admired was Rose Darner, whose fair young loveliness contrast- 
ed so well with the finished beauty of her mother. 

But Rose was engaged. Lord St. Albans would not hear of 
keeping that engagement secret ; it was his glory and his pride 
— why should not all the world know it ? 

Lady Darner, with her serenely-beautiful smile, had told him 
that Rose was so young — she really ought to see something of 
the world, and he had answered : 

“She is old enough to love me, Lady Darner, therefore she 
is old enough to be true to me.” 

And then, pertiaps, some faint memory of an early lost love 
came over Lady Darner, for she sighed deeply, and her lovely 
eyes watched the young lovers with a softened light in their 
depths. 


2o8 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


Hope Charteris had, against her will, gone to London ; she 
had begged to be left alone at Avonwold, but Lord Darner 
would not hear of it. 

“You say w^e are too gay; come and enjoy the gayety, for 
you have not been like yourself lately, Hope. There is noth- 
ing so beneficial as change of scene. ” 

Lord and Lady Dysart had also gone to town for the season ; 
their chief anxiety was removed, the cherished son and heir had 
found some one to love ; they could hope to see numerous 
branches of their grand old race spreading out like shoots from 
a goodly tree. My lady was no longer so nervous over him ; 
Lord Dysart rejoiced. 

“ Of course we must go to London,” he said. “Archie will 
never rest for three months without seeing Rose.” 

Then, if the earl went, his young secretary must go, too, for 
Lord Dysart had grown wonderfully attached to the young po- 
et. Lord St. Albans declared himself half jealous at times. 
Lord Dysart owned a large mansion at Mayfair. 

“When you are married,” he would say to his son, “this 
place must be refurnished. I should say myself that Lady Da- 
rner has the most exquisite taste of any woman in London. We 
must consult her about it” 

No sign yet of the cloud that was gathering so slowly and so 
darkly ! 

After the Dysarts left Avonwold, they went abroad, taking 
Verner with them, so it happened that Rob had written several 
times to his brother, and had had no reply. When Verner 
reached England again, his first care was to write to Widcombe, 
and tell Rob that, as it was utterty impossible for him to get 
away from London, Rob had better come up and spend a few 
da^s in town. He sent him a five-pound note to pay his fare, 
as utterly unconscious that he had taken the first step on the 
road to ruin as man could well be. 

For Rob had not as yet mentioned his discoveries to his 
brother. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


209 


There was a great amount of caution in all Rob’s proceed- 
ings. To have gone to Verner with his secret on his lips, would 
have been, perhaps, to lose all hold of it. Rob had passed 
some very unhappy months since that journey to Riversmead. 
His mother had suddenly acquired a firmness for which Rob 
had never given her credit. He had sense enough to see that 
all further mention of the secret in that quarter was utterly use- 
less. 

Kate had annoyed him greatly. Sometimes she had been 
her own brighter self, fond of him, pleased to see him, and again 
she taunted him with the utter failure of all his grand efforts at 
being a gentleman. 

“ Lucky for me that I know how to work. It seems to 
me that if I wnit until you work for me, I shall wait long 
enough. ” 

So that it was altogether a pleasant change for Rob when 
Verner invited him to London. 

‘‘Go,” said Jane Elster, “go, if you will; but, remember, 
if you breathe one word of what you said to me to Verner, 
you will do mischief that you will rue to the end of your life.” 

She gave him money, but mother and son parted coldly. 

“You may just as well look pleasant over it, mother,” said 
Rob. “ Remember that I am not going on my own account ; 
I v/as invited there.” 

To which Jane responded, coldly, that he was at liberty to 
please himself. 

Verner had written very plainly to his brother : 

“ I cannot ask you to Lord Dysart’s house," he said ; “it is 
already overcrowded with guests, nor should I like to take the 
liberty ; but I will be at the station to meet you. I will find 
vou lodgings, and will devote as much of my time as I can to 
you. \^u^shall see everything there is to be seen in London. 
More than that, I cannot promise.” 

Rob was amply satisfied ; he had not seen half enough, and 
he was always eager for pleasure. 


210 


LADY DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 


Truth must be told. When Verner met his brother at Eus- 
ton Station, he was somewhat ashamed of his appearance. 
There was no disguising the fact that Rob looked uncommonly 
plebeian ; nay, it must be said, low. 

The rakish, would-be jaunty manner in which he carried his 
hat on his head, the great, coarse, red hands, ungloved and 
ringed ; the intolerable odor of stale cigars and bad tobacco 
that clung to him. Verner was no fine gentleman — he had 
never in his life given himself any extra airs or graces, but he 
had lived among gentlemen ; his taste was elevated and refined. 
It was not to be wondered at that he shrank from the curious 
figure by his side. 

“I should not have known you.” said Rob, looking up in 
admiring envy at his brothers handsome face and figure. “You 
have changed, and no mistake.” 

“ It is a long time since we have seen each other,” he replied ; 
and then the young poet reproached himself most bitterly that 
he did not feel more like a brother to Rob. He almost hated 
himself because he shrank from the man whom he believed to 
be his brother. He forced himself into familiar conversation 
with him, wondering all the time why nature was not warmer 
within him— why he did not love his brother simply because he 
was his brother, and for no other reason. 

He had taken two nice rooms in Islington, and there they 
went. 

‘‘Now, Rob,”said Verner, “you must see everything. Lord 
Dysart is not very busy just now, and I shall be able to go out 
with you. Tell me what you think you shall like best.” 

Rob replied by a wink ; he was given to winking, believing 
it to be a royal road to wit. 

“The theater,” he said, “and an oyster supper afterward.” 

“ There is one of Shakespeare’s plays running now at the At- 
las — would you like that for to-night?” 

‘Shakespeare, said Rob, dubiously; “he is rather dull, 


LAD y DAML'J^ ’S SECRET. 


2IJ 

isn’t he ? I like something dashing and sensational ; but I will 
try Shakespeare for once. ” 

“The finest actress in all England will be on the stage to- 
night ; you will see her as Lady Macbeth. ” 

‘ ‘ Is she handsome 

“ Few; if any, surpass her,” was the quiet reply. 

“Ah ! then I shall go. I would go anywhere to see a really 
handsome woman. Do you do anything in that way your- 
self?” 

“I have been wooing a young lady called Poesy,” said Ver- 
ner, ‘ ‘ and I find her rather shy. ” 

“I like them shy myself,” said Master Rob, with the air of 
a man of great experience. “It is more pleasant than when 
they are forward, you know.” 

Then he wondered why Verner laughed aloud. 

“Don’t think, because I come from the country, that I know 
nothing,” said Rob. “lam not so simple as you would fancy. 
I have been — what is the court phrase ? — paying my addresses 
to a very handsome young lady, one of the stand-off style. 
Nothing teaches a man so much of life as that. Shall ycu go 
to the Atlas with me ?” 

“ I do not know ; I am half afraid, Rob. Lord Dysart said 
he wanted to see me this evening, Perhaps I shall be busy. I 
will get you a ticket. In what part of the house would you 
like to be ?” 

Rob looked meditative. 

“I find myself most comfortable in the pit; but perhaps I 
might go to the dress circle for a change.” 

“That will be very pleasant. And now good-by, Rob, for a 
time. When you want me, always drop me a line, and I will 
come to you at once.” 

“I understand; I am not to call.” 

“I think not. If ever I have a house of my own you will be 
welcome there. I cannot invite you to other people’s.” 


212 


LADY DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


What was Verner s half amusement, half consternation, when 
he reached home, to find Lord Dysart waiting for him ? 

“Verner,” said the earl, “can you spare the whole of this 
evening ?” 

^ “Certainly,” was the quick reply. 

“ Lady Dysart wants you ; it seems that she arranged to go 
to the Atlas to-night, to see Macbeth. Lady and Miss Darner 
are going with her. I want you to take my place ; I have an 
engagement that I cannot break.” 

“I shall be only too pleased,” said Verner, yet he wondered 
to himself what he should do with Rob. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

MACBETH. 

It was not often that the Atlas was better filled than on this 
eventful evening. One box, especially, attracted all attention, 
for it was graced by the presence of two of the most beautiful 
women in London — Lady Darner and her young daughter, 
Rose. 

No words can tell the sensation that the marvelous beauty of 
the mother and the graceful loveliness of the daughter had 
caused. Wherever they went people went to look at them, and 
on this evening, when it was know^i that Lady and Miss Darner 
were in the house, there was more anxiety expressed to see 
them than to see the celebrated actress wHo was to take the part 
of Lady Macbeth. 

Lady Darner had never looked more beautiful. She wore an 


LADY DAMEJVS SECRET. 


213 


evening dress of rich blue velvet, and a set of pearls. Her gold- 
en hair was bright and shining as it had been twenty years ago, 
her face quite as fair. She had gained, rather than lost, in per- 
sonal attraction ; for, although the girlish brightness had gone, 
there was in its place the splendor of a magnificent woman- 
hood. She might have been a queen by right of her marvelous 
gifts. 

As she sits in the luxurious box, so tastefully decorated with 
crimson velvet and white lace, no man living could imagine a 
fairer picture than Lady Darner. The blue velvet contrasted so 
well with her golden hair and fair skin ; the gleaming pearls 
were not whiter than the neck and arms they adorned. She 
held a bouquet of crimson roses and white lilies in her hand ; 
her jeweled fan lay near her, and the beautiful face was turned 
eagerly toward the stage. 

There was one thing to be remarked in Lady Darner ; every 
now and then a fit of abstraction came over her, when she 
thought herself unnoticed ; a far-off look came into the violet 
eyes, a dreamy expression, half a smile, half sorrowful, played 
round her lips. She was away, then, far away in some dream- 
land, where no one could follow her. 

One of those fits must have been upon her now. She sat 
quite still, Verner Elster, by her side, looking at her in a won- 
der of silent admiration. Perhaps, of all the people she knew. 
Lady Damer preferred going out with the young poet, whose 
name was beginning to grow famous. There was such perfect 
accord, such entire sympathy between them, that, where others 
require to exchange words, they simply exchanged looks, and 
those spoke volumes. 

People hesitated as to whether mother or daughter looked 
most lovely. 

Rose Damer required no dress or ornaments to impress her 
loveliness on the eyes of men ; but, on this evening, she wore a 
white lace dress, trimmed with blush roses ; a diamond neck- 


214 


LADY DAMEIVS SECRET. 


lace, her proud father’s gift, lay like points of flame on her white 
breast. 

It is almost needless to add that the most devoted of all lov- 
ers, Lord St. Albans, was by her side. 

Our story does not embrace the history of the tragedy, or the 
success of the young actress as Lady Macbeth ; all that was ad- 
mirably told the next day in the papers. Our interest is cent- 
ered in the box where Lady Darner sat. Verner had smiled 
more than once to himself at the recollection of Rob and his 
appearance. Lady Damer saw him once, and, looking at him, 
she asked : 

“Why do you smile, Mr. Elster? Does some pleasant idea 
recur to you 

Then he told her that his brother from the country was here, 
and he gave a good natured sketch of Rob that highly amused 
Lady Damer. 

“Where is he?” she asked; but Verner, looking round, 
could not see his brother. 

“ Perhaps, after all, he has not come,” he said. 

“You must bring him to see us,” said Lady Damer. “Never 
mind his eccentricities ; we shall make him welcome for your 
sake.” 

And then both gave their attention to Lady Macbeth. In the 
meantime Rob, who had only gone out in search of reLesh- 
ments, had returned. Pie saw both gentlemen and ladies look- 
ing very intently at a certain box, and Rob, thinking he might 
as well see all there was to be seen, stood up and gazed with all 
his might. To say that he was bewildered would be but to 
feebly express his feelings ; he was more than that. Kate was 
handsome, in a certain coarse, bold style, but these two ladies 
upon whom he was gazing, like a man whose soul is suddenly 
awakened, were more than that. 

“Why, they have skins like satin and hair like gold,” he 
thought to himself. “I did not know there was anything in 
the wide world like them.” 






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LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


217 


Which, considering Verner’s unvarying kindness, could not 
have been much, though in Rob's mind there was a heavy bill 
against his brother. He was envious of him for being so fair of 
face, for his grace and refinement of manner, for the very gifts 
that contrasted with his own ungainliness ; yet would he forgive 
all if Verner would only '‘take notice of him now." 

And while the rest of that sad tragedy went on, depressing in 
its gloom, until the climax of horror was reached, and Macbeth 
lay dead, Rob drank in from Rose Darner's face such draughts 
as maddened him still more. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

IN PARADISE. 

Rob was roused, the curtain had fallen, and people were has- 
tening away. He turned with a start and a cry ; it was Verner 
who touched him. 

“Rob," he said, “come with me." 

Without word or question Rob followed him. There had 
been some delay or mistake in ordering Lady Darner’s carriage, 
and she, with her daughter and Lord St. Albans, Was waiting. 

“Five minutes.?" Lady Darner had said, “we have five min- 
utes to wait.? Then, Mr. Elster, you have time to introduce 
your brother to us." 

Her voice softened as it always did when she spoke to Ver- 
ner. There was something in his face, she did not know what, 
that attracted her, and touched her heart as no other lace had 
ever done. One of the chief things she admired in him was his 
entire freedom from all false pride and affectation. He spoke 


8 


LADY DAMEK^S SECRET. 


SO frankly and so openly of the poverty of his family, he accept- 
ed his position with such perfect grace, it was impossible to 
withhold admiration. 

He had often spoken to Lady Darner of Lane Cottage, its 
superabundance of flowers and foliage, its picturesque loveli- 
ness; he had described to her in his own words, always so full 
of poetr}% his mother’s kind, comely face, and their simple 
manner of life at Croston. Never once had he assumed to be 
other than what he believed himself, a son of the people, sprung 
from a lowly origin, and thankful to Heaven for the gifts which 
had raised him, more than the mere accident of birth could 
have done. 

When, in obedience to Lady Darner’s wish, he went in search 
of his brother, she said to Lord St. Albans : 

“I do not wonder at your warm affection for Mr. Lister, 
Archie ; I think he is one of the best bred men I have evei 
met.” 

Lord St. Albans was delighted. 

“Vou make my heart warm,” he said, ^‘when you speak so 
of my chosen friend and comrade.” 

“It is true,” she continued. “His manners are perfect. 
Can you not imagine how any one less well-bred would have re- 
ceived us with apologies, and felt ashamed of introducing a 
simple young countryman to us? He is different to every one 
whom I have ever met.” 

Then Verner returned with Rob ; but where was Rob’s boast- 
ed courage, his grandeur, his airs of grace and pride? 

“Am I to keep my gloves on or pull them off?” he had 
gasped in an agonized whisper, and that was his only remark as 
Verner hastened through the crowd of people. 

“If I keep them on, that will hide my rings, and yet they 
are rather red and rough, ” thought Rob, as he glanced at the 
white, strong, yet slender hand of his brother. He decided to 
keep them on. 

Another minute and he stood before the most beautiful and 


LADV DAMER SECRET. 


219 


brilliant woman in England, Florence, Lady Darner, who was 
also reputed to be one of the proudest. She forgot everything 
but her desire to make Verner’s brother feel quite at home. She 
spoke in her kindest voice, with her most gracious smile, a 
smile for which half the men in London would have been 
grateful. Rob was confused, dazed, dazzled, bewildered. It 
was one thing to admire such a woman at a distance, but quite 
another thing to stand face to face with her. 

“I hope,” said Lady Darner, “that you have been pleased 
with the play. I thought our new actress charming. ” 

Rob ventured to express an opinion that it was “very first- 
rate indeed.” Had it been any one else save Verners brother. 
Lady Darner must have smiled ; for a more grotesque figure 
than Rob presented never met her eyes. Such a strange mix- 
ture of bashfulness and impudence, of shyness and audacity, of 
vanity and shamefacedness never was seen. 

Lord St. Albans came to her relief. He shook Rob’s hand 
with a cordial smile. 

“I must be pleased to see you,” he said, “for your brother 
is my dearest friend. Do you know that he saved my life?” 

“No,” Rob said, he had not heard that, but he knew his 
brother was equal to most things. 

Then Lady Darner, with a few quiet words, introduced him 
to her daughter ; and Rose Darner, for Archie s sake, held out 
her white, jeweled hand to him. 

At last Rob's end and aim was effected, at last he looked into 
that lovely, radiant face, and saw the smile that resembled noth- 
ing so much as a sunbeam given to himself. That moment it 
seemed to him that the gates of Paradise were opened to him. 

He was coarse, fierce, ignorant, and ill-bred ; yet so mighty 
was the master-passion that had seized upon him when she 
smiled in his face and spoke to him, he could have swooned at 
her feet 

Pie did not know what she said. He saw the diamonds lying 
like so many points of flame on her white neck. The perfume 


220 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


of the flowers she carried reached him, and intoxicated him. 
When his senses did in some measure return, and his pulse beat 
more calmly, he could distinguish her words. 

“Is this your first visit to London.?” she was asking him, and 
her lovely eyes looked at him with a calm smile that seemed to 
still the fever that ran riot in his veins. 

He told her “No. He had been to London once before, 
but then it was business and not pleasure that brought him.” 

“Then this visit is to be one long round of pleasure?” she 
asked. “We must contribute our share to your enjoyment. 
Your brother is quite at home with us.” 

Rob “supposed so,” and then Rose Darner tripped away with 
1 smile. His longing eyes followed her ; every pulse of his heart 
went with her ; he had a wild impulse to fling himself at her 
feet and let her walk over him. Then Lord St. Albans came to 
say good-night. 

“ Have you been to Richmond?” he asked ; and Rob replied 
that he had thought of going. 

“Then,” said the good-natured young nobleman, “if you 
are not engaged for to-morrow, we will dine at the ‘Star and 
Garter.’ Where are you staying?” 

Rob gave his address. 

“We will drive down,” said Lord St. Albans. “I will call 
for you to-morrow with Verner; you will enjoy the drive. 
Good-night. ” 

Lady Darner spoke to him again, and Verner shook hands 
with him ; then Rob was left — still bewildered and uncertain — 
alone. 

“Mamma,” whispered Rose, with a smile, “did you ever 
hear of grapes and thistles growing on one stem?” 

“No,” said Lady Darner. 

“Nevertheless, it was done when our young poet and his 
brother grew up under one roof. 

Lady Darner shrugged her graceful shoulders. 

“He is unutterable, Rose; but we must be kind to him for 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


221 


Verners sake, I will invite him for an evening when we are 
quite alone.” 

Rose did make an effort to be very good natured. She was 
much attached to Verner ; but, despite all her efforts, a smile 
would ripple over her lips as she thought of the comical figure 
that had stood before her. 

Lord St. Albans told Verner of the invitation he had given 
his brother, and Verner was sorely perplexed. It was not that 
he had any false shame over Rob, but that he felt there was such 
utter vulgarity on one side, and such utter refinement on the 
other, it was doubtful whether there could be even the least ap- 
proach to enjoyment. 

As for Rob, he walked home like one who has drank too 
freely of rare wine. The stars were shining in the niglit sky — 
he never saw them ; London streets were full of the saddest po- 
etiy' — he understood nothing of it. The golden gates of Para- 
dise had been open to him ; rare perfume and music had intox- 
icated him ; in place of the golden stars and dark streets, he 
saw the peerless young face that was to haunt him till he died ; 
that was to lead him — only Heaven knew where. 

“I am to dine with a lord,” he said to himself; “no make- 
believe, but a real lord. What will my mother, what will Kate 
say to that ?” 

Before he slept, Rob wrote a letter to Kate. An extract from 
it will not be amiss : 

“ I do not know, Kate, howT shall like Croston, after this. 
No patronizing squires, no make-believe gentlemen. Will you 
believe that I am going to dine with a real lord ? And let me 
tell you, Kate, a real lord is a very pleasant object — so free, so 
kind ; no setting himself up. To-morrow, just about the time 
you are going to milk the cows, I shall be driving in a lord’s 
carriage down to a grand hotel, where we are to have a dinner 
such as you never even dreamed of. This is something like 
life. I feel that I was made for it. I was intended to be a 
gentleman. As for .the ladies, I have seen one. But perhaps 
I had better not tell you ; you may be jealous.” 


222 


LADY DAMER ’ ^ SECRE T. 


He little dreamed, as he wrote the boastful words, that the end 
of that letter would be murder ! 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

ON THE TRAIL. 

The dinner at Richmond was an era in Robert Elster's life. 
How he longed, with weak, impotent longing, to be one of 
these aristocrats — cool, lofty, graceful, and easy. How con- 
temptible his past life and everything in it seemed to him. The 
ultimatum of all earthly happiness had once seemed to him to 
consist of marrying Kate Repton, and being able to enjoy the 
pleasures of cheap cigars and constant attendance at the pit of a 
theater. 

Now, his views were completely changed. He no longer 
considered Kate the first and handsomest, the most clever and 
shrewdest girl in the world. The dazzling vision of that radi- 
ant young face and that girlish figure, in its rich array, had en- 
tirely changed the current of his ideas. He remembered a white 
hand, with rose-tipped fingers and shining rings. He contrast- 
ed that with Kate s red hands, made doubly coarse by hard 
work. 

It was Rob’s first awakening to the elegance of life. 

Weak eyes cannot look at the sun without being half blinded, 
and weak minds cannot contemplate wealth and grandeur with- 
out the poison of envy entering the windows of the soul. 

If Rob had possessed that most valuable of all gifts, common 
sense, he would have been the better for this contact with those 


lAD V DAMER SECRET. 223 

above him ; as it was, his whole soul was filled with an envious 
wish to have what they had — to be as they were. 

He wondered if any amount of money could buy for him the 
cool, graceful, easy manner that sat so well upon Lord St. Al- 
bans ; if any amount of almond soap would whiten his hands ; 
if any possible in\ention could give to him the same polish and 
refinement. 

He had always looked upon Verner as a bookworm and a 
student ; now, he would have given all he had in the world for 
the same perfectly well-bred manner, the same grace of expres- 
sion. 

Lord St. Albans did his best to amuse his awkward guest ; 
he and Verner exerted all their powers of conversation, but the 
most that Rob ventured upon was a constrained smile and a 
few ejaculations, until he had drank three glasses of champagne. 
Then Rob felt his spirits rise. He said to himself : 

“A man’s a man for a’ that.” 

He tried to be as easy in his manner as Lord St. Albans him- 
self, and the result was so laughable that no one could refrain 
from being amused. 

It was a relief to all when the dinner was over, and they were 
ready to drive back to town. Yet had Rob treasured up many 
pearls of great price. He remembered most of the young no- 
bleman’s quaint, humorous sayings. He glorified himself by 
thinking, when he returned to Croston, how he could say : 

“I dined at Richmond with Lord St. Albans, and he told me 
a queer tale.” 

He imagined the sensation that must follow this announce- 
ment. His brain was slightly turned ; nor was his exaltation 
of spirit lessened when, on the day following, he received a note 
from Verner, telling him that Lady Darner had asked him to 
spend the following evening at Avonwold House. 

‘‘There will be no one there but the Dysarts and Lord St 
Albans. So do not be afraid, Rob ; you will be sure to enjoy 
yourself,” Verner wrote» 


224 


LAD V DA MED ’ 6 * SECRE T. 


But he need not have feared any shyness on the part of Rob. 
He never thought of his own deficiencies at all ; he only remem- 
bered that he was to see her again — the beautiful queen who 
had taken possession of his heart — should see her and speak to 
her ; sit at the same table ; look once more at those bright eyes; 
and feel his very soul warmed by those wonderful smiles. 

What he went through in the way of preparation, only Rob 
himself knew. The general result was that he presented a very 
shiny, smart appearance. He was one glisten; face, hands, hair, 
all shone with a universal glow; and Rob presented himself at 
the door of the Avonwold House feeling that he was indeed 
arrayed for conquest. 

He opened the eyes of wonder when he saw the magnificence 
of that mansion ; heliad never beheld anything like it. Noth- 
ing awes a common mind so much as a display of grandeur. 
Rob was, in most cases, impudence personified ; but when he 
looked round on the entrance-hall, the broad staircase, with its 
crimson carpets and statues, on the number of serv’ants gliding 
noiselessly about, on the wealth and luxury to which he was an 
entire stranger, his courage gave way, and cold drops stood like 
large beads on his forehead. 

Fortunately for him, Verner, hearing his arrival, came out to 
meet him. Rob was only too thankful for his brother’s sup- 
port. 

“I say, Verner, this is all very grand, and it will be very com- 
fortable to think about afterward — very grand to speak of — but 
it is not very comfortable while it lasts.” 

“They are very kind. You will soon feel at home with 
them, Rob,” said his brother. “There is no need to be nerv- 
ous ; they know we are only simple country boys ; they do not 
expect from us what they look for from people in their own 
class. ” 

“It is all very well for ” replied Rob, wiping the big 
drops away. “ I can talk all right when I am at home ; it takes 
me all my time here to keep my hands right.” 


LADY DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 225 

And Verner, unable to repress a smile, led his brother into 
the drawing-room. 

Again Rob’s senses were quite bewildered ; but nothing could 
exceed Lady Darner’s tact — when she did a kindly action, she 
did it well. At one glance she saw how completely Rob was 
lost. She went up to him and talked to him until his intellect 
became clear, and the great confusion of his mind passed. 

Was he grateful for such kindly condescension .? Will you 
believe me, reader .? — his sole thought was that he must be a 
fine fellow, for this great and noble lady evidently admirec^ 
him. 

Then he looked round for the young girl whom he longed 
so ardently to see again. 

She was there — he saw her at the other end of the large, state- 
ly apartment. 

“Rose,” said Lady Darner, gently, and the soft, musical 
voice sounded so clearly the girl heard it at once, and hastened 
to her mother’s side. 

Lady Darner smiled as she looked at the lovely face. 

‘ ‘ What can you find to amuse Mr. Robert Elster } Perhaps 
he would like to hear you sing.” 

“That I should,” said Rob, eagerly; “there is nothing in 
the whole world I should like better. ” 

“You are like your brother, fond of music,” said Rose, kind- 
ly, as she crossed the room to the piano. 

The sweet, rich perfume of the. flowers, the fragrant air, stole 
Rob’s senses from him. It was like a glimpse of fairy-land to 
him. 

He was seated by the piano, and Rose, with that smile of 
hers, turned to him and asked him what she should sing. 

“You could not sing anything that was not sweet, ’’said Rob, 
with a desperate attempt at a compliment. 

“You do not know,” replied Rose with a light, delicious 
laugh that made Rob’s heart beat. “ You do not know, Mr. 


2 26 LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 

Elster. Some of my songs verge on the saucy, and some on the 
defiant. ” 

Everything you do must be charming,” he continued. 

It seemed to him impossible to sit there, to look in her face, 
to listen to her, and not to tell her that he adored her. The 
perfume of the flowers seemed to grow stronger and sweeter 
every minute. 

Rob was intoxicated. It was well for him that the arrival of 
the Dysarts gave a change to the current of his thoughts. 

Rob had no reason to complain of want of attention then. 
Lady Dysart, who loved her son Archibald with a love passing 
even that of mothers for children, loved Verner next best, be- 
cause he had saved him. 

Verner’s brother was to her an object of greatest interest. 
Naturally proud, inclined to be haughty, she forgot everything 
except kindness. 

She went up to Rob and welcomed him most kindly, saying 
what she thought would please him best — words in praise of 
Verner. 

Rob began to plume himself upon the attention paid to him. 
Lord Darner came in, and he shook his hand with an expres- 
sion of kindly interest. 

“I owe more to your brother,” said the good-natured noble- 
man, “than I could repay if I lived forever. You must com- 
mand my services, Mr. Robert Elster ; they are yours. ” 

Some one asked them where Miss Charteris was, and Lady 
Darner said she had gone to spend the evening with an invalid 
friend. 

Rob enjoyed himself very much. He passed muster very well. 
He was too deeply in love to commit any great gaucherie, and 
his entertainers were kind enough to overlook any little defi- 
ciency. 

“It is terrible hard work,” thought Rob to himself, “but I 
am getting on pretty well.” 

When it was time for him to take his leave, Verner went with 


LAD Y DA MED ’ S SEC RE T. 


227 


him into the hall, and, while they stood talking there, Hope 
Charteris returned from the visit she had been paying her 
friend. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

’ RECOGNITION. 

Verner was bidding Rob good-night, and arranging to go with 
him on the day following, when the hall door was opened, and 
Miss Charteris crossed it. 

Verner could not imagine what had come over his brother so 
suddenly, for Rob gave a great start, and a cry he could not re- 
press escaped his lips. His face grew white as death, and his 
eyes looked wild. 

‘ ‘ What is the matter, Rob asked his brother. 

“ Nothing.’' 

But Rob’s voice was hoarse and uncertain. 

Then Miss Charteris came up to them, and held out her 
hand to Verner. 

Rob knew her at once. He recognized the kindly, pleasant 
face, never beautiful, but made so comely from its expression. 
The self-same look that, years ago, she had bent on Verner 
when he lay sleeping, she cast on him now. 

Rob was amazed — too much amazed for speech. There was 
no mistake ; this woman standing there holding Verner s hand 
so kindly in her own, was the self-same vailed lady whose visit 
had aroused his curiosity, and had given him the first idea of a 
secret. 

“ Miss Charteris,” said Verner, “may I introduce my broth- 


228 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


er to you ? My brother, Robert Elster, who has come all the 
way from Croston to see me.” 

Rob, whose keen eyes were fixed on her, saw a'siidden still- 
ness fall over her ; her lips paled, and her face changed — she 
evidently made an effort to control some sudden emotion — then 
she turned to Rob. 

“ I hope you will find your visit a pleasant one,” she said. 

Their eyes met for a moment, and a sudden cloud of fear 
darkened and deepened those of Hope Charteris. 

‘‘I know something,” Rob’s eyes said. 

And she read their expression correctly. A cold, dull fear 
made her heart ache, and then seem almost to stand still. A 
sudden, dreadful terror came over her when she read the greedy 
curiosity of those dark eyes. 

Then Hope tried to recover herself ; she drew the scarlet 
cloak more tightly round her shoulders, and shivered. 

*‘Are you cold. Miss Charteris?” asked Verner; “cold in the 
midst of a bright June ?” 

“lam not very strong,” she replied, “ and feel cold easily.” 

There was hesitation in her voice, and Verner thought her 
manner strange. 

Suddenly she looked up at him. 

“Did you say your brother had come to see you ?” she asked ; 
“come to pass a few days in London, I suppose?” 

“ Yes,” replied Verner ; “ it is Rob’s holiday.” 

“ Half business, half pleasure,” interrupted Rob ; and from 
the very tones of his voice she recoiled with disgust. 

Miss Charteris spoke again to Verner, and then, with a low 
bow to Rob, swept through the hall. 

“She is a fine woman,” said Rob, critically ; “tall and well 
built ; seems rather proud, though. ” 

“It is only her manner,” said Verner, who had himself 
thought her strange. 

And Rob said to himself, with great satisfaction : 

“I know something that will, perhaps, bring her pride down. ” 


LADY DAMER 'S SECRET. 


229 


The next moment he had gone out from the stately man- 
sion where the secret was hidden, and stood under the stars 
alone. 

Alone, with his brain on fire. He was on the track at last. 
He knew her again, and she was the very center of the secret — 
she held it in her hands. 

What was it Why had the grand lady, whose place was 
amongfwthe nobles of the land, come to his mother’s cottage to 
weep over Verner? 

She was high-born, and wealthy ; what was there in common 
with his mother and her ? 

Suddenly, under the stars, Rob stands still. An idea has 
occurred to him — an interpretation of the secret that has for 
the moment suspended all power of movement ; in fact, Rob 
staggers under it like an intoxicated man. High-born and 
wealthy she may be, proud and stainless she might be before 
men, but he knew Veiner w'as her son. The more he thought 
of it, the more certain was he. 

She might have contracted a secret marriage, or she might 
never have been married at all — that did not concern him ; he 
did not care how it was ; but it seemed plain enough to him 
that Verner was her son, and she was obliged to keep his exist- 
ence a secret from every one, therefore she had brought him to 
his mother’s house, and gave his mother money to live upon 
and insure her silence. It was Miss Charteris who had sent 
those boxes ; it was she who had made those costly presents, 
and no doubt it was through her that he was with the Dysarts. 

All that nonsense about saving the young heir’s life, was very 
well ; but it did not impose upon him in the least. His ideas 
all seemed clear and luminous. There could be no doubt on 
the matter. 

Verner Elster, who passed as his brother, and his mother’s 
son, was the child of this woman, who had kept her secret for 
so many years. 

‘And a very pretty little game it has been,” he said to him- 


230 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


self, “very quiet and nice. My mother has lived comfortably 
by it — I must do more. If I am to keep it, I must have a good 
price — a far better price than she has had. ” 

He believed the worst of Hope Charteris. He believed that 
she, passing for a good woman, was, in reality, a lost one ; yet 
no sentiment of pity or compassion for a woman who had such 
a burdeji to bear ever struck him. 

He never gave one thought to what she must suffer when she 
found the secret which she had so carefully kept, known to him. 
He quite ignored her. All he remembered was, what he hoped 
and meant to make out of the business 

He had stood so long, with that half-wild, vacant look on his 
face, that passers-by began to wonder ; more than once a po- 
liceman had glanced suspiciously at him ; then, with a laugh 
that echoed through the streets, he went on his way. 

“ I have found it ! I have found it !” cried Rob to himself; 

‘ ‘ the secret that I have been groping for these long years is 
mine at last !” 

He was too much excited to dream of going to rest or sleep ; 
he wanted to think it all out, to decide on what plan he should 
pursue, and how he should tell Hope Charteris of his discov- 
ery. 

“ Let her pay me well,” said Rob ; ‘‘she seems rich enough. 
She had diamonds on her neck and arms that would make me 
rich for life. Let her give me enough to live on, and I will 
keep her secret faithfully, as my mother has done before me. ” 

That seemed to Rob the only difficulty in the matter — how 
much would keep him in luxurious comfort? How much 
should he ask ? 

“I will manage it very nicely,” he thought. “ I will take 
her aside, and tell her I know all about the Riversmead busi- 
ness — that I have every proof Verner is her son ; but that it will 
all be quite comfortable and settled if she will come down hand- 
somely ; there will be nothing the matter then — it will be all 
right.” 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRET. 231 

So he thought ; so he laid down his plans, with the most sel- 
fish disregard of every one and everything. 

Hope Charteris had gone into the drawing-room. Every one 
there present was too kind of heart, and too well bred, to make 
any remarks about Rob ; his gaucheries and eccentricities had 
passed unremarked. Yet it was a relief when he went away, 
and Hope came in his place. She was so universally loved and 
respected, as kindly, noble, generous women always are ; and, 
despite the one error of her life. Miss Charteris was worthy of 
all esteem. 

How ill you look, Hope.?’’ said Lord Darner. 

She tried to shake off the dull, heavy fear that lay so cold at 
her heart. 

“What is it.?” she asked herself, in terror; “what has come 
over me .? Why has the sight of that ycung man unnerved me? 
Can anything be more natural than that he should come to see 
his brother .? The very fact of his doing so proved how utterly 
unconscious he was. Yet, what did that expression on his face 
mean ? What did his eyes say, when they looked, for that one 
moment, so cunningly into mine ?” 

As she recalled that look, Hope Charteris grew sick with ter- 
ror — faint and cold with dread. 

When the visitors had all taken their departure, and happy, 
Icfvely Rose had whispered to “Aunt Hope” that Archie would 
never be satisfied now until their wedding-day was fixed. Lady 
Darner came up to her sister. She clasped one white arm round 
Hope’s neck, and bent her beautiful face over Hope’s troubled 
features. 

“Hope,” she said, “you have the old care-worn look back 
to-night. What is it ?” 

“The old pain,” was the reply; “it has been troubling me 
all night. Florence, who was that extraordinary young man 
I saw as I passed through the hall ?” 

Rose laughed, then went away, knowing there would be a 
reproof for that. 


232 


LAjDV damer^s secret. 


I hope you spoke kindly to him ?’* said Lady Darner, quick- 
ly. “It was Mr. Lister’s brother, a simple, ignorant countiy 
youth.’' 

“What brought him here.?” asked Miss Charteris. 

“I am very fond of Verner,” said Lady Darner, “and when 
he told me his brother was in town, I thought it would please 
him very much if we asked him here, ” 

A look of great relief came over Hope’s face. 

“He looked such a strange visitor, that I could not under- 
stand it.” 

‘ ‘ I never saw so great a difference between two brothers, ” 
said Lady Darner. ‘ ‘ There never was a young prince more 
graceful, more refined, or more courteous than Verner Lister. 
I love to watch him. I like to hear him speak — to look at his 
face ; but his brother, poor boy, is nothing more or less than a 
country boor.” 

“Brothers often differ considerably,” said Hope. 

“It has not been quite fair,” laughed Lady Darner. “Ver- 
ner has all the beauty and the talent, his brother has — ^just 
nothing. ” 

She was surprised by Hope clasping her and kissing her, cry- 
ing : 

“ It was so with us, darling. We are sisters, children of one 
mother ; you have all the grace and beauty ; I have nothing. ” 

“ Nothing ?” repeated Lady Darner ; “why, Hope, my darl- 
ing, what should I have been without you ?” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


m 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE MARTYRDOM OF HOPE CHARTERIS. 

“Is it pleasant news ?” asked Lady Darner, seeing her hus- 
band smile over an open letter he was reading. 

“Yes, I think so. My letter is from Audrey Darner, and he 
says how much he should like to pay us a visit at Avonwold, 
when we return this June. He talks of the lime trees, and 
how much he longs to see them again. I suppose we shall 
have open house for a month or two ?” 

“1 presume so,” was his wife’s reply. 

Lord Darner looked at her. 

“Florence, remember you are mistress of your own house, 
darling. I shall tell Audrey it is not convenient, if you dislike 
the plan.” 

Her face flushed slightly. 

“Why should I not like it, Karl?” 

“I cannot say; but I have not studied your face all these 
years for nothing, Floy. I do not think you have any great 
affection for Mistress Isabel.” 

“Nor has she much for me. I do not think she has ever 
forgiven me for being Lady Darner ; it is the place she intended 
to occupy.” 

“She would not have filled it as you have done, darling. 
Shall I write and say, ‘ Come V ” 

“Yes,” she replied, reluctantly; and, afterward, she felt this 
very reluctance had but been a foreboding of ill, “even as the 
ravens gather together to enjoy the spoil. ” 

So Lord Darner wrote, asking Audrey and Isabel Darner to 
join them at Avonwold, in July. 

“We shall leave London at the end of June, and Lady Da- 


234 


LADY DAME/?’ S SECRET. 


mer prefers home to the sea-side this year ; so that we shall go 
there from town/’ 

How little, Heaven help him ! did he dream how this visit 
would end. 

On the day following what Rob in his own mind called the 
discovery, Verner went, as he had promised, to show him the 
Tower. 

He could not understand what had come over his brother. 
He was excited, confused, bewildered ; and his only resource 
seemed to be calling for continual relays of brandy and water. 

‘‘It is the only thing that keeps my strength up,” he said, 
with a nod of apology to Verner. 

“ What has brought your strength down.?” asked Verner, with 
a smile. 

“Too much sight-seeing,” was the prompt reply. 

“Brandy will not help you, Rob ; it is a bad habit either to 
work or play on stimulants.” 

But his words fell on deaf ears. Rob had resolved to utilize 
the day by asking all kinds of questions about Miss Charteris, 
and he lost no time in beginning. 

“Verner,” he said, as they walked through the crowded Lon- 
don streets, “who is that lady — the one who came home just 
as I was going ?” 

“That is Miss Charteris, Lady Darner’s sister. They are very 
much attached to each other. Miss Charteris has lived with 
Lady Darner ever since she has been married.” 

“She is a fine woman. Is she rich?” 

Verner thought it nothing more than a little curiosity on his 
brother’s part concerning the people who had been so kind to 
him ; he fell at once into the web woven for him by that clever 
young spider, Rob. 

“Yes, I suppose so. I think I heard Lady Dysart say once 
that Miss Charteris had property which brought her in an in- 
come of four thousand a year. ” 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 235 

‘‘I shall be quite satisfied ^vith one thousand,” thought Rob, 
modestly ; “I shall not ask for more.” 

''Miss Charteris, you call her — then she has never been 
married 

“No,” said Verner, “though she would have made any man 
a splendid wife.” 

“Why has she never married.? I thought when girls had 
money they were never allowed to remain single. Have you 
heard, Verner, how it is ?” 

“I have heard some story, Rob. I think when Miss Char- 
teris was young she was engaged to be married to some gentle- 
man of great social standing — he was an eminent statesman — 
but she gave him up in order to devote her life to her young 
sister, who had been left motherless.” 

“But did she give him up.?” asked Rob, incredulously. 

“Yes, I am sure of that, because Lady Dysart said that all 
Lady Darner’s love could never repay her sister for the sacrifice. 
She gave him up, and he died ; I cannot tell how long after- 
ward. ” 

“Has she had no lovers since?” 

“I should say not — I never heard any spoken of. Why, Rob, 
what makes you so curious — you have not, surely, fallen in love 
with Misj Charteris?” 

“I like to know all about people. I suppose, now, she is 
very high and mighty in her way ; there has never been any- 
thing against her — no gossip or scandal?” 

Verner’s face flushed. 

“Certainly not ! What a strange question to ask.” 

“Not strange at all,” replied Rob. “ Have you forgotten 
Croston? Mrs. Young was said to be a scold, Mrs. Smith was 
supposed to drink, people said Mrs. Brown had two husbands, 
and that the boy Mrs. Clarke called her young brother was in 
reality her son.” 

“Stop, Rob,” cried Verner, laughing at this resume of village 
scandal; “there are no such rumors about Miss Charteris; on 


LAD Y DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 


236 

the contrar}^, I know no lady more beloved, esteemed, or re- 
spected.” 

“Then the secret is safe,” thought Rob, triumphantly. 
“There is no one to share the price with me.” 

He asked questions until Verner laughingly refused to an- 
swer any more; but Rob managed to ascertain how proud 
Lord Darner was, and that the Darners of Avonwold wxre the 
proudest and most stainless of all the proud peers of England. 

The more he heard the more deeply satisfied Rob felt. If 
all this were true. Miss Charteris would far sooner pay him a 
thousand a year than let her secret come to Lord Darner’s ears. 

“I must hold that threat over her,” said Rob to himself. 
“If she seems inclined to resist or be disagreeable, I will say 
that ‘duty 'compels me to tell Lord Darner.’ People always 
talk about duty when they want to do anything disagreeable. ” 

He evinced just as much curiosity about Rose. Verner talked 
of her youth, her bright beauty, her talent, little dreaming how 
he was adding fuel to the flames. But he said no word of her 
engagement to Lord St. Albans ; that he considered was a secret 
he had no right to make public. 

“I suppose Lord and Lady Darner think the whole world of 
this Rose ?” he said. 

“They love her very much; they would not refuse her any 
wish or any desire, I believe. ” 

“Suppose, now, she fell in love and was married to some one 
poor; Lord Darner would take the husband by the hand and 
make a great man of him 

“lam sure he would,” replied Verner, and he laughed again 
at the idea of Rose Darner marrying a poor man. 

“He would put him in Parliament, I suppose, and give him 
any amount of money.?” 

“Like the old-fashioned fathers on the stage,” interrupted 
Verner. 

“But would he.?” persisted Rob. 

“ Without doubt.” 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


237 


And then as they became involved .in a crowd, the brothers 
were obliged to be silent. Afterward, when they turned into a 
quiet street, Rob said to his brother : 

“You have risen pretty well, Verner; but, mark my words, 
I shall rise higher still. You do not know what is in store for 
me.” 

His manner was so grandiloquent and pompous, that Verner 
laughed again. 

“We shall see,” said Rob, “some of these days. You will 
not laugh, but own you are surprised.” 

For another idea had occurred to Rob — this secret would give 
him a great hold over the Darners ! The only kind of pride 
that he understood was that which springs from vanity. Such 
pride as made the Darners of Avonwold prefer death to dishonor 
was a sealed letter to Rob Elster. 

Of course they would sacrifice anything for appearances ; they 
would do anything to keep the secret from becoming public 
property. He would kill two birds with one stone. He would 
ask Miss Charteris for a thousand a year, and he would ask 
Lady Darner to let him marry her beautiful daughter Rose. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE EVIL BEGINS TO WORK. 

In the dark corner of an old Roman palace there hangs a 
picture, painted by one of the old masters, of Judas the betray- 
er. The man’s whole soul shines in his face, and it is one vivid 
flame of greed ; the eyes are filled with fierce fire, the unstable 
lips are weak and vacillating ; every evil passion that can haunt 


238 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


a man’s soul is written there — greed, self-cunning, ambition, 
deceit, treachery ; and on the morning after the discovery, any 
one looking at Rob Elster might have thought he had sat for 
that very portrait. Even the coarse animal beauty that had 
once been his seemed to have been withered and burned away 
by the greed that, like a strong demon, overpowered him. 

How could he make the most of the secret he had discov- 
ered? He did not know how best to utilize it. Who would 
give him the most for keeping it? who would pay him best for 
betrayal ? He looked anxious. 

“One false step,” he thought, “may lose me the game I have 
been toiling so long to win. It ought to bring me in a fortune, 
and it will, if I manage it properly.” 

But that managing required great skill, great diplomacy. 
Who was richest? who would give him most? 

In his own mind he had already decided that he would take 
nothing under a thousand a year and the hand of Rose Darner. 

“If I marry her, her father will push my fortunes. Robert 
Elster, M. P. ; that would look well, and sound well ; there has 
been many a less clever Member of Parliament than I should 
make. Verner would see then that book-learning is not all the 
world. Who shall I tell first ? He is the elder lady’s son — the 
one they call Miss Charteris ; should I see what she will give 
me for silence ? and if she does not seem willing to pay well, I 
will try Lady Darner herself. ” 

So he resolved to see Miss Charteris as soon as he could. 

“She will be humble enough when she knows what I know,” 
he said, with a smile that was worthy of Judas himself. 

That very day, much to everybody’s surprise, he called at 
Avonwold House. Lady Darner had been very kind to him ; 
she had gone to some trouble to entertain him because he was 
Verner’s brother, and she was warmly attached to Verner; but 
she was not pleased at this morning call — she considered it a 
liberty, and no one resented the least approach to a liberty 
more quickly than Lady Damer. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


239 


She was cool to Rob ; she gave him by her manner plainly to 
understand that he must not call when uninvited. Rob looked 
round in search of Miss Darner, but she was not present. Then 
he ventured to ask where she was. 

“Miss Darner is engaged,” said Lady Darner, coldly. “This 
is a very early and not very suitable hour for visitors.” 

“Miss Charteris is not at home either, I suppose?” said Rob. 

“Ido not know what my sister s engagements are, ” replied 
Lady Darner, still more coldly? 

Rob looked up with a sudden, evil gleam in his eyes — a lurid, 
sullen expression that might have terrified her if she had had the 
least idea of the truth. 

“Curse her!” he said to himself. “I know that which will 
soon bring her pride down. Shall I tell her ? shall I bring her 
on her knees here, praying me, Rob Elster, to spare ? or shall 
I let her go on a little longer, believing herself to be one of the 
grand ones of the world ?” 

Lady Darner certainly thought the young man had lost his 
reason ; he sat there watching her, that strange, subtle, half 
sullen, half triumphant look in his eyes, neither awed by her 
silence or her coldness, smiling every now and then to himself 
with a smile that was terrible to see. 

“I must not spoil my fortune,” thought Rob, “just for a lit- 
tle bit of revenge; power is pleasant. Just to think ! beautiful, 
haughty, and magnificent as she is, if I liked ^could bring her 
on her knees ; she would bow down that proud head of hers. I 
should say, ‘Ah, my lady, your sister, whom all the world thinks 
so good and pure, is but a whitened sepulcher. I know the sin 
and folly of her youth.’ How delicious it would be ; she would 
clasp those white hands of hers and say, ‘ Dear Rob, do not be- 
tray us.” 

The idea amused him so greatly that he laughed aloud. My 
lady wondered ai the strange, grating sound, but she made no 
remark. Rob suddenly grew conscious that he was behaving 
very badly. 


240 


LADY DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


“I suppose, then,” he said, ‘‘I shall not see Miss Charteris 
to-day?” 

“Did you wish to see her? have you any business with her?” 
asked Lady Darner. 

“Well, she is a kind-hearted lady ; I always enjoy seeing her. 
I do not know whether I have any especial business with her or 
not. I shall call in again. ” 

Lady Darner was thankful when he took his departure. 

“Could any one believe those young men were brothers ?” she 
said to herself; “the one all grace, courtesy, poetry, and beau- 
ty, the other the concentrated essence of all that is vulgar. ” 

When Miss Charteris returned. Lady Darner told her of the 
strange visit. 

“I never saw such a dreadful young man, Hope; he fright- 
ened me ; he sat looking at me with the most curious expres- 
sion — a kind of triumphant, defiant look ; then he asked if you 
were at home. I did not like his taking such a liberty.” 

It was well that Lady Darner did not see the ghastly change 
that came over her sister’s face. Hope was standing, looking 
through the window at the changing tints of the summer sky. 

“Asked for me.!^” she repeated. 

“Yes. Do you know, Hope, I should be ashamed to men- 
tion such a thing to any one else ; but I really think that young 
man is absurd enough to imagine himself in love with Rose. 

I wish you coutd have seen him look round the room for her.” 

But Hope Charteris only repeated the words : 

“He asked for me?” 

“You seem surprised ! so was I, Hope; but I believe it is a 
difficult thing to keep that class of people in their place ; but 
for Mr. Lister’s sake I could not say anything. I wish, though, 
that we had been more sparing of our kindness.” 

Suddenly turning round. Lady Darner caught sight of her 
sister’s face. 

“Why, Hope,” she said, laughingly, “you need not take the 


LAD Y DA MED ’S SECRET. 


241 


matter so deeply to heart; what if he does presume? I can 
cure him with one half word.” 

Hope laid a trembling hand on her sister’s shoulder. 

“Do not, dear — let us be cautious.” 

Lady Darner drew up her tall figure with a gesture of superb 
disdain. 

“Cautious!” she said. “Hope, you are dreaming; why 
should I be cautious? What do you mean?” 

She looked so indignantly surprised that Hope replied faintly: 

“Nothing — I mean nothing, only that it is better always to 
avoid giving offense.” 

And then, fearing she might say more than was prudent, 
Hope quitted the room. 

“ What a coward I am,” she said to herself; “what have I to 
fear? He knows nothing. I would stake my life on his moth- 
er’s fidelity I He merely asked for me because he was at a loss 
what to say; embarrassed, perhaps, by my sister. Why need I 
tremble? My Heaven! keep me firm and strong. Surely, 
after so many years, there need be no fear. ” 

On the day following she was out walking alone, and met 
Rob. Just as he came up to speak to her some one else joined 
her, so that he had no opportunity of saying a word, yet the ex- 
pression of his face disturbed her. 

“ I know something,” the mocking eyes seemed to say; “a 
secret of yours. ” 

And, for the next few days, Hope Charteris might have be- 
lieved herself to be haunted. If she went out for a walk, she 
was sure to meet Rob Elster. If she went for a drive, he would 
stand looking at the carriage, watching her face, until she grew 
sick at heart and faint with fear. 

At last, he called one day at Avonwold House, hearing his 
broiher was there, and was shown into the library. 

“Mr. Verner Elster is here,” said the servant who admitted 
him ; “I will find him.” 

“lam not asked into the drawing-room this time, ” he said 


242 


LAJDV DAMEI^^S SECRET. 


to himself, with a most malignant smile. “Never mind ; when 
I have a thousand a year, and Miss Darner for my wife, they 
will all be at my feet. ” 

Hope Charteris entered the room suddenly, little dreaming 
who sat there. Rob sprang from his seat when he saw her. 

“Good-morning, Miss Charteris,” he said; “I have been 
wishing to see you for some time. I say ” 

She made one desperate effort to freeze him into silence, but 
he persevered. 

“I say, I know all about that little business at Riversmead. 
Pretty quiet you have kept it all these years, haven’t you ?” 


CHAPTER XL. 
hope’s despair. 

Never while he lived did Rob Elster forget the ghastly des- 
pair that came over the comely, pleasant, kindly face of Hope 
Charteris. 

“You know what she cried, and her voice was faint, hoarse, 
and so full of pain, that even he, callous and cold-hearted, 
turned from her. “What do you mean ?” she cried. “Oh, 
for Heaven’s sake, speak to me ! Do you not see you are kill- 
ing me ? What do you mean ?” 

‘ ‘ What I say. There is no need to take on so desperately ; 
I do not say that I am going to tell what I know — perhaps I 
may, and perhaps I may not ; it will depend on you.” 

He saw her tremble so violently she could hardly stand. 
From her white lips there came a moan, so long, so low, so 
pitiful. 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET. 243 

*‘Has it come, my Heaven?” she prayed; “has it come?' 
Give me courage and strength to bear it.” 

“ Prayers are very good things in their way,” said Rob ; “but 
just now it must be business. Miss Charteris.” 

“Give me — give me two minutes,” she moaned ; “lam sick 
and faint ; I am dying.” 

And the strong, brave woman, who for years had battled with 
the storm alone, threw up her arms with a low, despairing cry, 
more pitiful than the dying sob of a strong man. 

“Stop! stop !” cried Rob; “there is no need for all this. 
You need not be so frightened, Miss Charteris; upon my hon- 
or you need not. I shall not tell it, if you pay me. Listen to 
what I have to say. It is no use going on in that kind of way, 
not the least in the world.” 

But the horror did not die out of the frightened eyes. Hope 
drew a step nearer to him, and said : 

‘ ‘ What do you know ? If you do not wish to see me die at 
your feet, tell me what it is.” 

Rob positively smiled ; never a gleam of pity touched his 
heart. It was indeed delicious to see this proud woman brought 
low. He had felt sure they would crouch at his feet. 

“You know what I have to say — about that little business 
down at Riversmead. I know who Verner Elster, as you call 
him, is.” 

“Who?” she gasped, clutching the chair to keep herself from 
falling. 

“ He is your son,'' said Rob. “ Of course, I have no wish to 
pry into your secrets. You may have been married three times, 
or you may never have been married at all ; it is no business of 
mine ; but you must have had some good reason for hiding your 
son, and passing him off as my mother's child. Pay me the 
price I ask, and I will keep your secret.” 

But Hope Charteris covered her face with her hands, and 
stood motionless and silent. A deep stillness came over them 
that was unbroken by sound or murmur. 


244 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


Was it a relief to her that her sister’s sin and folly should be 
laid to her charge? She had already given her whole life to this 
idol of her youth ; she had sacrificed the love of her girlhood, 
the comfort and happiness that had once seemed so fair to her, 
and now, on this altar of sisterly love, was she to lay her wo- 
man’s purity, her fair name, her honor, all that she loved and 
valued most ? 

Her son ! Should she bear it ? Florence would be free — 
the beautiful, proud sister, whose husband idolized her, whose 
children called her blessed — the noble and exalted lady to whom 
all the world paid homage for her rank and beauty. 

“What can it matter what happens to me?” she thought, as 
these ideas flashed, with the rapidity of lightning, before her 
mind. “ My shame would hurt no one. Have I lived for you, 
Floy, all these years to betray you in the end ?” 

Yet, some lingering, womanly clinging to purity and fair 
fame kept her silent a few minutes longer. Then love for the 
sister who had been to her as a child conquered, and she looked 
at Rob, taking the whole burden on her own soul, and did not 
contradict him. 

“How do you know it?” she asked, with some lingering 
hope that, after all, he might simply be trying her. 

“I have guessed it for years,” he replied. “Do not blame 
my mother — she has never, I swear to you, told me one word, 
and I did all I could to get the secret from her.” 

"'How do you know?” repeated Miss Charteris. 

“You remember coming to our cottage at Croston, one 
night, many years ago? You and my mother believed I was 
asleep ; but I had my wits about me ; I was wide-awake. You 
came into the room where Verner slept with me ; you kissed 
him, and tears fell from your eyes on his face. ” 

“You saw me ?” she said. 

“Yes,” he replied; “and I can what the newspapers call 
swear to your identity, though it is so many years since.” 

“Suppose I tell you that you are utterly mistaken?” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


245 


Rob laughed aloud. 

“In that case I should go at once to Lord Darner, and tell 
him all about it. He would make out the truth.” 

“ He would, in all probability, so punish you that you would 
never repeat the slander, ” she cried, indignantly. 

“I have too many proofs in my hand. Can you deny. Miss 
Charteris, that you sent those boxes to Verner, when he went 
to' college 

Hope started. If he knew that, in all probability he knew 
more, and could bring forward proof for all he said. There- 
fore denial, even if she condescended to it, was quite useless. 
She turned haughtily to him. Perhaps in all her life Hope 
Charteris never felt prouder than in this moment, when she 
had sacrificed that which she held dearest in life— her fair name.. 

“And suppose, Mr. Elster, I admit that you have played the 
spy to some purpose — and — that — ^your suspicions are correct, 
what then.?” 

“There would be some sense in that,” he replied; “then, 
in all probability, we could come to terms, and that is what I 
want. ” ’ ‘ 

“Then you have been for years acting the spy, trying to get 
all the information you could, so as one day to sell your se- 
cret.?” 

“Yes,” he interrupted, “to the highest bidder.” 

“ If you really are so base, so mean, so soulless, so utterly 
dead to all honor, no words of mine can affect you or touch 
you.” 

“ No,” said Rob, candidly ; “ I do not think they can.” * 

“Then I will spare them. Now, let us be brief Has any 
one else discovered the secret, or are you alone in your knowl- 
edge .?” 

“No one else even dreams of it,” he replied. “You see. 
Miss Charteris, I have been for years trying to puzzle, this out. 
]\Iany little things aroused my suspicions. My mother, for in- 
stance, never would tell me where she lived before she came to 


246 


LAD Y DA HER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


Croston. I knew there must be a reason for that I found it 
out. Then I was puzzled as to where she derived her income. 
After a time, I found that out. You know it would be useless 
to deny anything, because I have been to Riversmead and made 
inquiries.’’ 

“You have been a scheming, cunning spy, and you have 
succeeded,” she said. 

“Yes. I am not particularly ashamed of it, either. I never 
liked work. Miss Charteris. When I found my mother lived 
on the secret, I resolved to do the same. I may as well be 
quite honest, and tell you that is the reason why I never learned 
any trade or cared for any business ; it would have been flying 
in the face of Providence not to have done my best to gain all 
the information I could. ” 

“ You- are candid,” she said, bitterly. 

“Yes. We shall understand each other all the sooner for 
that. I know that the young man you call my brother is, in 
reality, your son. Now, what will you give me to keep that 
secret as my mother has kept it ?” 

“The question is, what do you want?” 

And then, fiom the white lips of Hope Charteris, there rose a 
cry of unutterable anguish that she could stand there to bargain 
for fair fame and a pure name. 

“You are rich,” said Rob; “I know that you have a for- 
tune of four thousand a year ; but, I should imagine, your 
pride is much dearer to you than your money.” 

He paused, and she bowed assent. 

• “I consider,” said Rob, modestly, “that I am acting very 
fairly to you. Some people would ask the half of what you 
have. I want a thousand a year — no more.” 

“Are you mad?” asked Miss Charteris, contemptuously. 

“No, I am particularly sane. Stop and think, before you 
refuse me. / s/ia/l take no less. Unless you give it to me I 
shall go to Lord Darner. He will make inquiries, and then it 
will be all over with you— you can never show your face again. 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


247 


Take what time you like to decide ; I shall not press you. I 
will come again for my answer.’’ 

He would have said more, but at that moment the door 
opened and Verner entered. 

He looked at Miss Charteris, but she averted her face, lest 
he should see the ghastly pallor she knew was there. With a 
muttered word she went out swiftly, leaving Verner slightly sur- 
prised at what he thought her abrupt manner. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

THE BRAVERY OF HOPE CHARTERIS. 

Swiftly up the grand staircase, to seek the solitude of her own 
room, went Hope Charteris. She had not foreseen this, even 
in her dreams, having felt always so sure that her secret was safe. 
She had imaging, sometimes, that Jane Elster might be delir- 
ious and reveal it., but that it should come to light in this ex- 
traordinary way, had never occurred to her at all. 

She went into her own room, and carefully closed the door ; 
then she stood like one whose life is suddenly stranded. She 
was dazed, bewildered, lost. She had borne the weight of this 
secret alone for so many years, that to find another knew it — to 
find that, despite her care and precautions, it had come to light, 
was too m'uch for her. 

“Great Heaven !” she cried, as she stood there with clasped 
hands, “it has come at last.” 

The vague fear of long years was realized ; the haunting dread 
that at times had mastered her, was a stern, cruel reality. 

“It has come. Oh, Floy ! how shall I save you, my dar- 


2/8 


LAD y DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 


ling ? You trusted me so — ^you believe your little baby to be 
dead. I deceived you — oh ! wretched, miserable, guilty I. I 
have done you wrong, my darling, where I would lain have 
saved you. I would have given my life to have kept your se- 
cret — and now it is known. Heaven help me ! — help me, or I 
shall die.” 

And Hope Charteris, usually so self-possessed, so calm, so 
courageous, flung herself on tbe floor, her face half buried in 
the masses of hair that fell over her. She did not weep as some 
women would have wept ; but from those white, trembling lips 
there came low moans that told of the heart’s agony. 

Over and over again she went through those fatal scenes — 
Riversmead, where her sister had fallen ill ; she was once m.ore 
in the little chamber at the farm, where Florence lay, white and 
dying, as they believed, and the little child had slept in her 
arms. 

“ My baby is dead !• My little baby is dead !” she heard the 
faint voice saying. 

And she remembered how the idea had first occurred to her 
that it would be better for her sister always to think her baby 
dead. Scene by scene, she went through it all. She remem- 
bered the doctor’s grave face, his disapproval of that which 
seemed to her most expedient and best. She saw Jane Elster’s 
pitying face bent over Floy. 

“How young she is to be married,” Jane had said, “and her 
husband was away, poor thing.” 

It seemed to her only a few minutes since she laid the little 
one in Jane’s arms and kissed the tiny rosebud face, yet it was 
twenty years ago. 

“I did it for the best,” she murmured. “Surely Heaven 
will not punish me — I thought it best.” 

It was some relief to her to know that the remedy lay in her 
own hands. 

“He has not found out the truth, thank Heaven for that. 
He believes Verner to be my son, and I will never undeceive 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 249 

him I will bear the burden of my darling s sin, if sin it 
was. ” 

Then she lay quite still, wondering to herself if she should 
be compelled to give Rob the thousand a year he demanded. 

She hated and detested him with a fierce hatred that knew no 
words — she loathed him. If, by any unforeseen accident, any 
sudden revelation, her secret had come to his knowledge, 
she would have cared less ; but to think that for all these long 
years she had fancied herself in such perfect security he had 
been slowly hunting her down, made her whole soul tremble 
with indignation. 

“ If I were a man,” she cried, “I w'ould thrash him. How 
shall I bring myself, even for my darling’s sake, to give him a 
thousand a year ? I must keep him in luxury, when I would 
rather slay him !” . 

Yet she knew it must be done. What was a thousand a year, 
after all, compared to Floy’s fair name — Floy’s happiness and 
honor? 

“It is not the money I care for,” said Hope; “I would give 
every farthing in the world to Floy ; but it is that I gxudge its 
going to him. I hate to think that his greed and avarice, his 
cunning and scheming, should be so richly rewarded. I must 
remember it is for her sake — for her sake. ” 

Then, when the storm of grief had passed over, leaving her 
exhausted as a child, Hope Charteris rose from the floor to look 
life, with its new burden, bravely in the face. She started back 
as she caught sight of her own features in the glass, they were 
so changed, so drawn, so haggard! it was as though twenty 
years of deepest sorrow had passed over her head and drawn 
deep lines round her mouth and eyes. 

It had been hard enough to bear before — hard enough to 
keep that ghastly secret ; but now that it was doubled — now 
that she was in the power of this young man, so coarse, so vul- 
gar, it would be worse than before 

Even if she promised to give him the enormous sum he de- 


250 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


manded, she had too much common sense not to see that only 
half her troubles would thereby be avoided. 

He would always presume, he would always make it difficult 
for her, he would annoy her in a hundred different ways. The 
money would, after all, be the least part of the evil. 

“All the comfort of my life is over,” she thought. “I shall 
live now with a sword above my head, and I know that at any 
moment it may fall.” 

She was completely unnerved. Rose came into her room, 
crying : 

“Auntie — Aunt Hope, what are you doing shut up here in 
this unsocial way, all by yourself.? See what I have to show 
you !” 

She came into the room with a smile on her beautiful young 
face. 

“Oh, auntie,” she said, “do not laugh at me, but I am really 
the happiest girl in all the wide world. See what Archie has 
sent me.” 

She opened a pretty little morocco case, and showed Miss 
Charteris a necklace of delicate pearls, so lovely, so dainty, they 
might have served for the queen of fairies herself. 

“He is so kind to me,” she continued. “You know, 
auntie, it is not the pearls, I do not value them because they 
are costly, but because he sent them, he thought of me, and I 
love him so.” 

She hid her blushing face on Hope's shoulder. 

“Auntie,” she said, “there is nothing in all the world so 
beautiful as loving and being loved.” 

Hope kissed the sweet, warm, young lips. Once, ah, dear 
Heaven ! once she had thought the same, and she had given up 
her sweet, bright dream for Floy's sake. 

“You .love Archie so very much, my darling?” 

“Ah, yes, so much,” said the girl. “I often wonder if any 
one in the world ever knew what love meant before.” 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRET. 


‘‘And if anything happened to separate you from . 
Rose?'’ 

“I hope I should die, aunt. I know life holds more than 
love ; there are duties, and other grave things, but I love the 
sunshine and happiness, I love my love, and I should not care 
to live. Why do you say such things? nothing could part us.” 

But Hope knew that if ever this fatal secret came to light 
Archie and Rose would be parted completely as though death 
came between them. Even while she kised Rose Earner’s face 
she vowed to herself that she would give Rob all he asked, that 
she would spend her life in keeping him to his word. She 
would do anything and everything to prevent this bright, loving 
girl from losing her sole hope in life. So while Rose talked of 
Lord St. Albans, Hope sat planning her answer to Rob Elster. 

It was a week before he called again ; he had said she would 
have plenty of time to decide, and he had kept his word. 
Then Rob came boldly to the house, and asked for Miss Char- 
teris. 

Hope went to the dining-room, where he waited for her. 

“Miss Charteris,” said Rob, “ I have come for my answer.” 

“It is ready for you,” she replied. “I will give you what 
you ask, a thousand a year, if you in your turn will swear to 
me that my secret shall not pass your lips.” 

“I swear it,” said Rob. “I should only be cutting my own 
throat, you know, to use a vulgar expression. You keep right 
to your bargain. Miss Charteris, and I will keep to mine.” 

“The money shall be paid to you quarterly, and if ever one 
word, or even the smallest hint escapes you, you will never have 
another shilling from me.” 

“Quite right, and the first time you miss the money I shall 
go to Lord Darner.” 

“ You need not threaten me,” said Miss Charteris, with digni- 
ty. “I shall so secure the money that it shall always be yours. 
I must express the deep sense I have of the enormity of your 
conduct. You are mean, dishonorable, unworthy to associate 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


with honorable people. You are beneath anger or con- 
tempt. ” 

“I shall not quarrel with hard words,” said Rob; ^"a thou- 
sand a year will bring all right; a man can endure much for 
that ” 

“You are not even worthy to be called a man,” said Miss 
Charteris; “most men have some notion of honor, you have 
none.” 

But the smile did not die from Rob’s face. Everything w'as 
easy to bear now that his fortune was secure. It seemed to him 
when he left Avonwold House that he was walking on air. 

“That is the first part of my bargain,” he said ; “for the sec- 
ond I shall go to Lady Darner and ask, as the novelists say, for 
her daughter’s hand. ” 


CHAPTER XLII. 

: KATE REPTON GROWS JEALOUS. 

Kate Repton was seated on the stile that led into the clover 
meadows. She had been busily engaged in milking her favor- 
ite cow, and by her side stood a pail of rich, fragrant milk, 
white and frothy ; rich enough to have gladdened the heart of 
any one who was proud of a dairy. But Kate had forgotten the 
milk pail ; her handsome face, with its dark gipsy eyes, was 
bent down ; a sullen expression lingered on the lips, for Kate 
considered her lover had neglected her, and she was not one of 
those who can be neglected with impunity. 

Presently she gathered a handful of the clover, and began to 
pull it in pieces. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


would serve him the same,” she said, viciously, “if he 
deceived me. I might have done better. I might have looked 
higher than Rob Elster, but now that I have condescended to 
him, he shall not deceive me.” 

The village beauty was getting angr}', for she had written sev- 
eral lexers to Rob, and had not received a word in reply. He 
who had been so eager to write to her ; who had wooed her with 
such perseverance ; who had known no rest, no peace, until she 
had promised to be his wife, now allowed six weeks to pass 
without sending her a line or a message. 

The last letter she had received was not a particularly loving 
one, either ; it was full of his grandeur ; he was going to dine 
with a lord, and spoke of the beauty of the fashionable ladies 
he had seen in London. 

“Perhaps some part of the marvelous fortune he was always 
talking about has come to him,” she thought; “and he is go- 
ing among so many grand people, he forgets me — but he shall 
not forget me. If I do not marry him because I love him best 
in the world, I will marry him to prevent his being happy with 
any one else ; he shall not forsake me !” 

The handsome face flushed, and the dark eyes flashed fire. 
Just then the farmer crossed the meadow and saw his pretty 
daughter sitting by the stile. He came up to her with a smile, 
but when he saw the pail his face darkened. 

“That milk is spoiling, lassie,” he said, “and good milk is 
not plentiful enough to waste.” 

“Let me alone, father,” she replied, sullenly. 

“I know what you are thinking about, Kate. I never 
thought to see my handsome daughter slighted ; but you are 
slighted, Kate, if what they say in the village be true.” 

^ “What do they say?” she cried, with flashing eyes. 

“That Rob Elster has been back more than three days, yet 
he has not been to see you.” 

She grew pale, and the brown slender hands trembled. 


LADY DAMEK^S SECRET, 


A 

do not believe it !” she cried. “I would not believe it if 
every one in Croston swore it was true !” 

“You must please yourself/’ replied the farmer. “I only 
know that John Merridew met me in the lane, and told me he 
had been speaking to him, and that he was the grandest swell 
ever seen in the neighborhood. John thought he must have 
had a fortune left him, he looked so fine. ” 

“John Merridew is a gossip,” she said. “I suppose the 
plain truth is that Rob has just returned. I know he would 
never slight me. ” 

“Of course you know your own business best; but if it 
should be true, Kate, show him some spirit. Do. not let him 
think you cannot do without him.” 

“I can manage my own affairs,” said the girl. “No man 
will ever slight me, father; you need not give me any advice.” 

There was something in her face that startled the farmer, and 
made him remember the old gipsy blood in her veins. He laid 
one heavy hand on her arm. 

“Kate, do not be foolish. Your mother was a dangerous 
woman to contradict or oppose. ” 

“So are all the women of my race,” she replied. “Rob 
Elster must think twice before he slights me.” 

It was true that Rob was back at Croston ; for the Dysarts 
had suddenly been recalled to Hatton Court, and' Lord Darner, 
finding Miss Charteris looked very ill, and deciding that Lon- 
don did not suit her, hurriedly arranged to go to Avonwold. 

Lady Darner offered no objection. Rose cared only for the 
spot where her lover was. There had been just time fof’Hope 
to make arrangements over the money ; she had a certain sum 
in the funds transferred to Robert Elster, a sum from which he 
derived an income of one thousand per annum. She went to a 
strange lawyer, who^nmn^ed the whole business for her, and, 
as a matter of^fpuise^ 'a^Ked no questions. 

“It is don^d/said Hope to herself. “Only Heaven knows 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T, 255 

whether it be right or wrong — for the best or the worst. It is 
done now. ” 

And Rob, master of a thousand per annum, knew no bonds. 
He became prouder than a millionaire. He walked along the 
streets as though they belonged to him ; he looked with superb 
disdain on all those less wealthy than himself. He thought of 
Kate Repton with indifference, bordering on contempt. 

“I must let her see that it is all over. I am not going to 
fling myself away on a common dairy-maid. I am a favorite 
of fortune, and I shall not rest now until I am Lord Darner’s 
son-in-law. I should spoil all my chance if I married Kate 
Repton.” 

Never a thought crossed his mind that he was bound by his 
promise to her — that he had done his best to win her. He 
never remembered that he was bound in honor — that his fail- 
ing to keep his word might cause her sorrow. He had but one 
idea, and that was “self.” 

His thoughts, attention, ideas, were all concentrated on him- 
self; there was no room in that narrow heart for any other sen- 
timent, for any other affection. 

He thought it very probable that she might be angry — he 
knew the race from which her mother sprung — but for her an- 
ger he cared little. 

Rob did not consider women of much account in the crea- 
tion. Weak, easily deceived, always ready to complain, lightly 
led. These were, he considered, the faults of women in his 
class. 

For such as Rose Darner, he had respect ; and, so far as he 
could fe:.l such a sentiment, veneration, they were creatures of 
another world. He would have trampled twenty Kate Rep- 
tons undef foot, but of Rose Darner he would have stood in 
awe. 

He had not felt quite satisfied with th^^ abrupt cessation of all 
intercourse between himself and Avorft ojd Hqyse. He had 
met Miss Charteris at her lawyers, and, with the -^.d that se- 


256 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


cured his money safe in his pocket, he had tried to assume an 
air of familiarity which she resented greatly. 

“You must remember, Mr. Robert Elster,” she said, with 
cold dignity, “that, although you have succeeded in wresting 
money by your cunning practices, you cannot purchase tolera- 
tion. ” 

And he shrank from the indignant flash of her eyes with the 
feelings of a whipped hound. 

Verner came to see him afterward, and told him they were 
leaving London at once. 

“Are the Darners going.?’’ asked Rob, more annoyed than he 
chose to own. 

“Yes, I should imagine, though I am not quite sure.” 

“Ah ! well,” said Rob, not quite liking this information, 
“I may, perhaps, run down to Hatton Court to see you, Ver- 
ner. ” 

yerner gently and delicately as possible reminded him that 
an invitation would be necessary before he did anything of the 
kind. 

Rob laughed aloud. 

“When I do come, it will be as a gentleman,” said Rob. 
“ I have made a very lucky speculation, Verner ; better not to 
ask me what it is, for I shall not tell you. But you are not the 
only fortunate man in the world. I shall never have to work 
again while I live.” 

Verner looked in utter wonder at his brother. What did 
he mean ? 

^ “You have made money enough to live upon, Rob .?” he re- 
^ ^peated ; “ it is impossible.” 

“ It is true— and not only to live, but to live well. I may 
. even help you. But about the Darners ; let me know to-night 
whether they are leaving London or not.” 

Verner simply thought it w^as one of Rob’s rather stupid 
jokes, and gaye no more attention to the matter. But at night, 
when he heard Lady Dysart say that the Darners were going to 


LADV DAMER^S SECRET. 


257 


Avonwold, he remembered Rob’s anxiety on the subject, and 
sent him a note containing the information. 

Then Rob knew his business in London was over — no need 
to waste any more of his precious time there — no need to spend 
any of the money that lay so securely in his purse. He would 
go home for a time, then decide on what steps to take over 
IMiss Darner. 

First of all, he said to himself, he must get rid of Kate — tell 
her plainly, if it were needful, that he had no intention of mar- 
rying her, then let her do her worst. So Rob returned to Cros- 
ton to carry out this intention. 


CHAPTER XLHI. 

THE DARKENING OF THE CLOUD. 

Like most braggarts, Rob Elster was at heart a coward. Be- 
fore leaving London, he had gone to a celebrated West End 
tailor, and felt more than satisfied with the result of his visit. 
He purchased an extensive and marvelous collection of the 
most fashionable articles of attire. Arrayed in one of the choicest 
costumes, he was what he considered giving the inhabitants of 
Croston a treat ; that is, he was walking slowly -down the street, 
so that they might have an opportunity of looking at him. 

He came, quite suddenly, face to face with farmer Repton, 
and there was an expression in the farmer’s eyes that Rob did 
not like at all. True, he stood six feet high in his boots, and 
was stout of limb, but for all that he would not have relished a 
blow from the farmer’s fist, and it was held most suggestively 
up to him. 


258 


LAD V DA MED ’ SECEE T. 


“If you play any of your tricks with my daughter,” said the 
farmer, “I swear that I will thrash you within an inch of your 
life.” ^ 

“Stop !” cried Rob ; but the farmer passed on with a mut- 
tered curse. 

Then the subtle schemer thought it better to compromise 
matters, and go to the farm himself. It would never do, now 
that he was a gentleman, to have his face spoiled by farmer 
Repton. 

“ Perhaps I had better keep up appearances with Kate until I 
have Rose Darner’s promise ; then I may defy her ; she will 
not even know where I am.” § 

That evening, when he knew the farmer would still be at 
market, and Kate at home alone, he went down to the farm. 
Kate was busily engaged in gathering raspberries, and the crim- 
son juice of the rich fruit had stained her hands. She looked 
very handscTme ; but Rob eyed her plain cotton dress with su- 
preme disgust, as he thought of the diamonds and lace that had 
looked so superb on Rose Darner. 

Kate looked up carelessly when she heard the sound of his 
footsteps. Though her heart was beating wildly with love and 
anger, she made no sign. The raspberries dropped rapidly 
into the little basket. 

“Well, Kate, have you no welcome for me.?” said Rob. 

“You have found time to call,” replied she. “You have 
been in no hurry, Rob Elster ; you came home four days ago.” 

. “ Yes, I have been very busy — no time for anything.” 

“Except showing yourself in all your grandeur.” 

She rose from her knees — she had been stooping to gather 
the fruit — and she stood before him, looking at him with su- 
preme contempt in her bold, handsome face. 

“So, Rob Elster,” she said, “you have come into your for- 
tune, I suppose .?” 

How heartily he regretted that he had ever mentioned it to 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRET, 259 

her, how he cursed himself and his own folly, how he raved at 
his want of prudence. 

“No,’' he replied, “not exactly, Kate.’’ 

“I do not believe you,” she said ; “you would never be so 
magnificent and indifferent, if your purse were not well lined. 
I understand men of your class, Rob Elster. Do you remem- 
ber that the little money my father can give me was once an ob- 
ject with you ?” 

“Was it? I had forgotten, Kate. I should fancy you were 
the chief object with me. ” 

There was a mocking smile on his lips that enraged her. 

“I should like to ask a few questions about your fortune,” 
she conti^aed. “Is it honestly come by ? You hinted once 
that you had a secret. Take care I do nor find it out. I 
should, if I gave my mind to it. When you went away, you 
asked how soon I should be willing to marry you. You can 
have my answer now. I say, at once.” 

“It will not be quite convenient,” said Rob, with a grin for 
which she could have slain him. “Besides, Kate, how very 
unusual for a lady to be so kind. ” 

“You need not taunt me. I wish to see if you are willing 
to keep your promise or not — that is all. ” 

“So painful to refuse such kindness,” said Rob. “ I cannot 
keep my promise just yet ; my affairs are not arranged ; when 
they are ” 

“What then ?” she asked. 

“I shall be able to tell you more on the subject. Those 
raspberries look very nice ; will you give me some, Kate ?” 

“Not if you were starving !” she replied, angrily. “You think 
you are deluding me very cleverly, Rob Elster. You are play- 
ing some deep game ; perhaps trying to keep me quiet while 
you arrange to marry some one else. I mean to have my share 
of the fortune. You promised me grand dresses, and servants 
to wait upon me. I mean to have them.” 


26 o 


LAD Y DA MED ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


“I have no objection/' said Rob; “but I have not got them 
myself yet. 

“You might have trifled with a hundred girls, and have es- 
caped, ” she cried, “but woe to the man who insults one with 
f the old gipsy blood flowing through her veins !" 

‘ ‘ I should never boast of that, " he said, with a sneer. 

Her face grew deadly pale. 

“Thank you," she replied. “If you are a wise man, you 
will keep out of my way for the future." 

‘ ‘ Now, Kate, there can be no possible need to quarrel, " said 
Rob, who began to feel alarmed. “ I thought you would be 
pleased to see me, after my long absence." 

“I give you fair notice," she cried, “I will track you, and, 
in the hour of your triumph, I will hunt you down ! You do 
not deceive me. Two months ago you loved me, and wanted 
me to marry you. There is no love in your eyes, now, and 
none on your lips. You are here just to keep friends with me 
until your aim is secured, and then you will laugh to think how 
cleverly you have duped me. I am no dupe, Rob Elster ; and 
I swear to hunt you down !" 

He did not like the turn of affairs at all, and tried to take the 
crimson-stained hand in his own. 

“Come, Kate, do not be angry." 

“There is oneway to avoid my anger," she retorted, with 
flashing eyes, “and only one ; fulfill your promise at once." 

No, he would not do that. If he played his cards well. Rose 
Darner would be his wife, and he should be elevated to the sev- 
enth heaven of grandeurr He would pacify the virago, if he 
could ; but marry her, oh, never ! 

So Rob tried the caresses and tender words that before had 
so often succeeded with her, and Kate allowed him to think he 
was succeeding again. 

“Let us forget this foolish quarrel, Kate. Kiss me, and be 
friends. " 

She let him touch her face with his lips. 


LADY DAME/rS SECRET. 


261 


'‘I will show you how the gipsy women kiss their false lov- 
ers, some day, ” she said. 

“ But I am not a false lover, Kate.” 

‘‘So much the better ; the lesson will not hurt you. Are you 
going away from Croston again, Rob 

“Not yet,” he replied, hurriedly, and then she felt sure he 
was going away at once. 

They parted good friends, to all outward appearances; in re- 
ality, each one was resolved upon outwitting the other. 

“Rob Elster has been here, father,” said Kate, that evening, 
when the faimer came home. 

“It is well for him,” was the grim reply. “ I told him this 
morning I would thrash him within an inch of his life if he 
dared to trifle with you.” 

Kate went up to her father and laid her hand on his shoul- 
der. She looked earnestly in his face. 

“I will say no more, Kate ; only we must have no nonsense. 
All the neighbors know he has asked you to marry him, and 
you shall not be shamed before them.” 

“I will see to it,” she replied. 

And,, long after she had quitted the room, the old farmer sat 
smoking and thinking of that strange look on his daughter's 
face. 

“ There will mischief come of it, I am afraid,” he thought. 

In the meantime Rob went home, quite resolved upon going 
to Avonwold at once. He had thougfit so little of Kate, she 
had been of no account in his plans. He had thought it the 
easiest matter in all the world to desert her ; but now he saw it 
would be dangerous, and decided upon losing no time in going 
to see Lady Darner. 

It would be so easy for him to leave Croston unknown to any 
one ; then, once at Avonwold, he would make his arrange- 
ments so as never more to return to the place where Kate Rep- 
ton lived. 

He never doubted his ultimate success, or that he should win 


262 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


Rose Darner for his wife. Fortune had already favored him 
so highly, she would not refuse him this crowning glory. So 
the next day Rob went quietly to the railway station. He took 
a ticket for Reesdale, a small junction from whence he could 
easily travel to A von wold. 

Fie was all unconscious of the silent figure that followed him, 
listened to the name of the place where he was going, took a 
ticket for it, and sat in the next carriage to him for the w^hole 
of the journey. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

LADY DAMER’s fear. 

Lady Darner sat in her dressing-room at Avonwold ; she was 
neither reading nor speaking, but thinking intently. The rival 
whom she had vanquished — the proud and stately Duchess of 
Redfern — had returned to Hurstholme Castle, and Lord Darner 
wished to give a grand fete to which she should be invited, so 
that Lady Darner had much to think of. Audrey and Isabel 
were at Avonwold, and the old enmity had not in the least died 
away. 

The great disappointment of Isabel Darner’s life was that she 
had no one fault to find with her kinsman’s wife. She had 
augured ill from the very first. She had believed that Lady 
Darner had some secret or mystery, the telling of which would 
bring her to unutterable sorrow and shame. She had watched 
her eagerly during all these long .years, and nothing had come 
of it. Lady Darner was simply one of the most popular and 
courted women in England ; she had gained the highest horn- 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T, 


263 

age and reverence, she had vanquished all other rivals even as 
the warmth of the sun absorbs the dew. Let Isabel watch, 
surmise, invent, question, do v/hat she would, it all came to 
nothing, leaving Dady Darner queen of the field. 

Even now, should any little mystery come to light, Isabel felt 
that it was of little consequence. There were two sons — Al- 
wyn and Charlie — no prospect of her husband ever succeeding 
to the title and the estate. The bitter disappointment had 
soured her. She was apt to be captious, satirical, and cold. 
The charming flow of spirits that had once made her so popu- 
lar had faded. Isabel Darner was nqt so well received in socie- 
ty as she had been, and for all this she detested her beautiful 
rival the more. 

When her grace of Redfern and Isabel Darner did meet they 
agreed with a cordiality that was delightful to see. The duchess 
could never forget how quietly, without strife or ostentation, 
she^had been removed from her throne. Lady Darner had said 
laughingly to her husband, that the Darners of Avonwold ought 
to hold the first position in the county, and in her own quiet way 
she had won it. The duchess never knew how or why, but 
surely and slowly she found her influence fading before that of 
Lady Darner. 

Lady Darner dispensed the most elegant hospitalities. Her - 
own loveliness was so great that it attracted people as nothing ^ 
else could have done. 

The duchess made no remark upon it. She never affected 
to see it, but in her own heart she hated and detested the beau- 
tiful mistress of Avonwold witir the most sincere hatred. 

Lady Darner knew it all ; therefore on this day when her hus- 
band told her that he wished for a brilliant fete, at which she 
was to put forth all her powers of entertainment, she was think- 
ing deeply how best to make such a fete what he wanted it. 

Of course the Dysarts would all attend, there was no fear of 
any refusals ; the cards of invitation had been issued for some 
days, and she had received nothing but acceptances. 


264 


LADY DAxMER^S SECRET. 


‘‘What can I think of/' said the beautiful lady to herself, 
“that is either new or original? All the fetes I have attended 
have been the same ; rowing on the lake — Tyrolean peasants' 
music. What can I think of new and pleasing?” 

There came a light step to the door. 

“Mamma,” said a sweet voice, “may I come in?” 

“Yes, Rose.” 

And over Lady Darner’s proud face there came a softened 
tenderness beautiful to see. Rose Darner clasped her arms 
round her mother’s neck, and bent her sweet, bright face down 
to hers. No fairer picture could have been seen in all the wide 
world than the beautiful, stately mistress of Avonwold and her 
lovely daughter. 

“Mamma, what are you thinking about? I have been look- 
ing every where ’ for you. You look anxious. Can I do any- 
thing for you?” 

“Sit down here, Rose,” said Lady Darner, as she touched the 
velvet footstool that supported her dainty feet. ‘ ‘ Let us have a 
consultation.” 

The young girl obeyed ; she laid her head on her mother’s 
knees, and the glory of her golden hair fell like a shower over 
Lady Darner’s dress. 

“Of all things,” said Rose, “I like a consultation with you 
best, mamma. What is it about ?” 

“The fete. You do not know. Rose, how anxious your 
papa is that it should go off well. In some vague way, I can- 
not tell how, but I seem unequal to it. I must be out of 
health. Generally, I am quick of invention and resource ; and 
at all my entertainments I have been able to devise something 
original which has made them famous ; but to-day there seems 
a cloud over me. I had a great fright just before lunch.” 

“What was it, mamma?” asked the girl, caressing the white, 
soft hand. 

“Of course I know it was but the result of some slight head- 
ache ; but do you know, Rose, everything white that I looked 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


265 


at seemed to have a great crimson stain upon it ! I was startled 
at first, but I remembered afterward having read that such a de- 
lusion was the common result of a nervous headache/' 

•‘Darling mamma,” murmured the girl, “if you do not feel 
well, tell papa so, and never mind the fete; you know he holds 
nothing on earth so precious as yourself. ” 

“It must be gone through ; besides, I am not ill. Rose, only 
this strange cloud hangs over me, and seems to dull my intel- 
lect. Can you suggest anything. Rose, that would prove an ad- 
ditional charm to our guests?” 

“Why, mamma — the sunshine and the flowers! — our beauti- 
ful grounds, and the delicious fresh air, will surely be charming 
enough. ” 

“Your papa thought of an archery fete before dinner, and a 
ball afterward.” 

“That would be delightful, mamma ! How can you sit and 
puzzle yourself what to do, when there is such a delightful pro- 
gramme before us? You will need no extra amusements, I am 
sure. ” 

“The duchess is so fastidious,” said Lady Darner. 

•“So are you, mamma ; anything that pleases you must please 
her.” 

Lady Darner’s anxious face cleared. At that very moment 
there came a rap at the door, and Lady Darner's maid entered. 
She carried a silver salver in her hand ; on it lay a note, rather 
dirty and crumpled. 

“A young man left this, my lady, and desired that it should 
be given to you at once. ” 

Lady Darner raised it with a slight shrug of her beautiful 
shoulders at its dirty appearance. She laid it down on the 
sumptuous toilet-table, hardly bestowing a second thought upon 
it. It was but a note from some tradesman, or a begging-let- 
ter, she believed. She would attend to it soon. 

Then came another maid to say that the horses were waiting, 


266 


LADY DAMED^S SECRET. 


and Lord St. Albans would be glad to know if Miss Darner in- 
tended riding this morning. 

Rose sprang up from her seat full of dismay. 

“Oh. mamma, I forgot, thinking of you — I forgot that 
Archie was waiting for me ; what shall I do.?” 

‘ ‘ Hasten to dress, and tell him it was all my fault, ” said Lady 
Darner, with a smile. 

A smile — Heaven help her ! — that was almost the last of her 
life. A smile that parted her lovely lips, and deepened the 
light in her proud eyes. Then she resumed her meditations. 
Yes, an archery fete would be a novelty. She would give a 
prize to be shot for, and the young ladies should all wear a very 
pretty uniform. That would be attractive ; all the best people 
in the country would be there, and there could be no doubt it 
would be a success. 

‘I hen my lady roused herself and looked at her beautiful face 
in the glass. 

“I will have a white moire antique dress,” she said to her- 
self, “white, shot with gold.” 

Her eyes fell on the dirty note — for the first time she noticed 
that there was a strong odor of musk from it, and if Lady Da- 
rner detested one thing more than another, it was musk. 

She opened the note carelessly. It was the last careless mo- 
ment of her life, and she read as follows : 

“My Lady Damer: — Perhaps you wdll wonder who is writ- 
ing to you. I am Robert Elster, and what I have to say to you 
concerns no human being but ourselves. I must see you, and 
see you alone. Now, my lady, for everything that is dear to 
you, say nothing to Miss Charteris of this. The business on 
which I wish to see you concerns her, and you would repent it 
to the last moment of your life if you said anything to her — if 
you even hinted that you had heard from me. If you love your 
sister or value her fair name, keep perfect silence. I must see 
you alone, at once ; and as your house is, I understand, full of 
visitors, you had better see me outside. Perhaps night will suit 
you best. I therefore propose, if you are willing, to meet you 
at the little iron gate that leads to the coppice, to-night, shortly 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRET. 


267 


after ten o’clock. Depend upon it, my Lady Darner, that if 
you do not come, you will be sorry for it as long as you live, 
and others will have cause to rue it after your death. From 
your obedient, humble servant, Robert Elster.” 


CHAPTER XLV. 

THE FATAL GIFT. 

• The preparations for the fete at Avonwold were over, 
and even Lady Darner was obliged to own that they were most 
complete and perfect. Isabel Darner looked on with hatred, 
not unmixed with envy. Everything had prospered so well with 
the beautiful woman in whose life she had hoped to find a flaw. 

None of her dreary anticipations had been realized ; no mys- 
tery had come to light, no secret had been revealed — Lady Da- 
rner stood on a pedestal none could touch. Beautiful, wealthy, 
honored, bearing one of the most ancient and aristocratic 
names in England, the breath of scandal had never even assailed 
her. Isabel Darner was forced to own to herself that for once 
the legend of the pattering rain drops had proved false. They 
had seemed to prophesy that shame and disgrace would follow 
the coming home of the lovely young bride; it had not been 
so, however, and fairest fame had been her portion. 

Isabel Darner was a clever, shrewd woman of the world ; it 
was not often that her judgment misled her, and she could not 
bear the recollections in which her husband occasionally in- 
dulged — of how she had foretold dire evil for Lady Darner. 
Mrs. Isabel had a strong will of her own, and now, when she 
asserted it, her husband never failed to remind her of her un- 
fortunate prophecies. 

All her hopes of ever seeing Audrey Lord of Avonwold were, 


268 LAD V DAMED’S SECRET, 

as a matter of course, completely at an end. Alwyn, the heir, 
was a fine, promising young man ; Charlie, a hearty, healthy, 
happy boy, and although she felt some little envy, she was too 
true a Darner not to rejoice in the fair and generous boyhood 
that gave such good promise for the after years. 

The fete was to take place on Wednesday, the twenty-second 
of July — a date, that afterward became famous throughout not 
only all the county but through all England, because of the 
tragedy that overshadowed for the first time the brilliancy of a 
name that had never been clouded. 

It was on the Tuesday that Lady Darner received the letter 
from Rob Elster already mentioned, asking her to meet him at 
the gate that led to the coppice, after ten o’clock at night. 

^ Her horror on receiving it is better imagined than described. 
No idea of the truth crossed her mind ; she had not the most 
remote suspicion that her sister had deceived her; she honestly 
believed that the child was dead. Of what Hope had suffered 
and endured for her, how she had for long years borne the 
weight of a heavy secret alone, she had not the most remote 
suspicion. She saw plainly enough there was some terrible 
secret. She knew enough of human nature to be quite sure 
that unless Rob Elster knew his power he would never dare to 
send such a letter to her. He had almost trembled before her, 
he had been shy and timid, frightened to address her, and now 
he wrote, hardly asking, but rather commanding her to meet 
him, at an hour when a maid-servant would resent an interview 
as an insult. She was too shrewd and clever to make any mis- 
take. She did not look upon that letter as the result of ignor- 
ance ; she knew the man who wrote it had power in his hands, 
and intended to use it. 

A secret concerning Hope ! her kind, motherly sister, whose 
life was an open book all might read — what could it be Noth- 
ing wrong, of that she was certain ; the sister who had saved her 
and shielded her, who had borne all the burden of her sorrow, 
had no such burden herself. 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 * SECRET. 269 

Could it be concerning money? Hope had no mysterious 
investments ; and, if she had, what would Rob Elster know of 
them, and how could they concern him ? Think as she would, 
Lady Darner could not solve the mystery. She only knew that 
a deadly foreboding weighed her down, a sharp, almost intol- 
erable pain, a sense of coming evil that nothing could avert. 

“I must go,” slie said to herself. “I cannot tell how it is, 
but I am afraid to refuse. I must go. ” 

Once or twice a slight suspicion did cross her mind that per- 
haps the Riversmead secret had, in some strange manner, come 
to light. 

She dismissed that as improbable ; had not Hope, who was 
truth itself, staked her life that it was safe ? 

But when Lady Darner we'nt down to dinner that evening,' 
there was something in the brilliant face that was very unusual. 
Her husband thought that preparing for the fete had fatigued 
her. 

Hope fancied she was out of spirits — no one guessed the 
truth. 

Rose was full of delight and the highest spirits. Lord Da- 
rner looked with pride at the lovely young lace ; he listened 
with joy to the bright young voice ; he thought nothing equal 
to his young daughter. 

When dinner was over, and the whole family party had as- 
sembled in the drawing-room. Lord Darner said, laughingly : 

“I shall not allow late hours to-night ; we must have bright 
eyes to-morrow, and fresh, fair faces ; no one must look tired. 
To-morrow will be a busy day for us all.” 

Rose Darner was seated at the piano. She merely turned 
with a smile that meant she should keep early hours if it pleased 
her. 

Audrey Darner and Miss Charteris were busily engaged at a 
game of chess. Lord and Lady Darner sat at a large center-table, 
on which were some choice engravings and photographs. Sud- 


270 


ZAD V DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


denly Lord Darner remembered that he had a little morocco 
case containing a present for his wife. 

• ‘ Florence, he said, ‘ ‘ I have a present for you ? it came 
this morning, but I had forgotten it. ” 

‘‘You are always making me presents,” she said. “You are 
extravagant, Karl. See, Rose looks quite jealous of me.” 

But Rose merely smiled as though she would say some one 
delighted in making her presents, too. 

Lord Darner took from his pocket a morocco case, bearing 
the name of a well-known jeweler. 

“I hope you will like it, Florence,” he said ; “it is my own 
design and idea.” 

She opened it with a smile, thinking how good and kind he 
was to her. Then she uttered a little cry of delight, for it con- 
tained one of the most beautiful bracelets ever seen. It was 
made of pale, pure gold, studded with magnificent emeralds. 
There was a superb clasp, and underneath it, skillfully hidden, 
a small, exquisite portrait of Lord Darner himself. 

“ Do you understand the secret of that little box, Florence?” 
he asked, and she smilingly said : 

“No.” 

Then he bent forward and touched the little spring. It opened, 
and she saw the portrait, that was really priceless as a work of/ 
art. 

“Oh, Karl !” she cried, “how beautiful — how like you !” 

“I am glad that I am beautiful in your eyes, Florence,” he 
said, for, although Lord Darner had been so long married, he 
was a lover still. 

He took the bracelet from his wife’s hand, and fastened it on 
her arm. 

“Let me see how it looks.” 

And then he kissed the beaudful arm extended to him, so 
white, so rounded. The pale-gold bracelet showed to perfec- 
tion on the lovely arm. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


271 


“I thought it would suit you,” Ke said. Wear it to-night, 
Florence ; I like it.” 

“Audrey,” said Lady Darner, “come and look at this little 
portrait. I call it simply perfection. ” 

Audrey Darner and Miss Charteris both left their seats at the 
chess-table, and came over to examine the bracelet. 

Hope’s keen eyes saw, underneath the portrait, in small let- 
ters, the words : “To her whom I love,” and she smiled as she 
saw them. 

“You are a lover still. Lord Darner,” she said. 

“And shall be until I die,” he replied. 

So it happened that every one in the room saw the brace- 
let, and commented upon it — that fatal gift that formed so un- 
fortunate a link in the great chain. 

It was Isabel Darner herself who fastened the spring when 
Lady Darner replaced the costly ornament on her arm. 

Then Lady Darner looked at the prettily-jeweled watch by 
her side. It wanted only five minutes to ten. 

“We must not disobey orders,” she said. “I have several 
little matters that require attention. I will go now, Karl.” 

When Lady Darner rose, it was the signal for a general dis- 
persion of the party. 

“Audrey will have one cigar with me,” said Lord Darner; 
“but we shall not be long. Florence, I have not seen you 
look so pale for years. ” 

For Lady Darner, now tl^at the time for the interview had ar- 
rived, shrank from it with deadly fear. 

She left the warm, fragrant drawing-room, where husband, 
children, and friends had been gathered together, and went out 
to meet the man who had played the spy to such excellent pur- 
pose. . \ 


272 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

THE INTERVIEW. 

The limes of Avonwold stood quite still in the moonlight ; 
every leaf was silvered, every branch was quiet. The birds, 
who had built their nests in the deep green hearts of the trees, 
were all asleep — no murmur of song came from them. The 
trees were part of Avonwold, that had stood like huge sentinels 
guarding the honor of the house. Had the moonlight stricken 
them silent and dumb, that they stood so quiet, without even a 
ripple in their rich foliage, as the proud figure of that beautiful 
woman passed beneath them ? 

• Had they life, instinct, sense, reason } Did they know what 
the night was to bring forth for the grand old house they had 
guarded so well, so silent, so stern, so unbending, so upright ? 
Oh, lime trees ! who knows the secrets you could tell ? The 
moon shone over them silvery, each branch, and spray, and leaf, 
until they looked like the silver trees in fairy-land. 

She had quitted the house in fear and trembling. There was 
no time to remove the brilliant jewels, or to change the rich 
evening-dress. 

She had simply thrown a black shawl over her stately golden 
head, and had passed through the long French windows that led 
from her suite of rooms to the rose-garden. She had gone first 
to her own chamber, where her maid awaited her. 

‘‘lam not quite ready yet,” she said to the girl Therese ; “I 
shall be, perhaps, half an hour.” 

Therese had wondered, at the time, why her mistress went to 
the wardrobe and took from it a plain black shawl. Then she 
thought that, in all probability. Lady Darner was going to look 
at some of the arrangements for the fete. She dismissed the 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRE T. 2 73 

matter from her mind, and took refuge in a French novel that 
she had been reading before her lady entered. 

Afterward, when every least action of hers became of signifi- 
cance, the servants remembered having met her on the stairs, 
and having wondered at so doing. 

As she closed the French window, and stepped out upon the 
lawn, a direful foreboding seized the helpless lady. It seemed 
to her that she was leaving all that was warm, safe, and true, for 
something terrible — she knew not what. 

She looked up at the windows of the house. From some of 
them the light flashed warm and bright, others were shrouded 
in darkness. From the window of Hope s room came a steady, 
bright light, and her heart yearned to it. How trifling this un- 
known danger would seem., if Hope only knew it, could only 
share it. 

So she passed under the silent limes. If each little leaf could 
have spoken, it would have cried out, with a loud voice : 

“ Stop ! ” 

But the heavens were dumb, the trees silent, and she 
crushed the dew-drops under her feet as she walked on to her 
fate. 

The little gate that led to the coppice was at the far end of 
the grove of lime trees ; two dark firs stood sentinel on either 
side, and there, lounging insolently, with a cigar between his 
lips, stood Rob Elster. 

He looked up with a smile, but with a grin of insolent tri- 
umph, as the dark-robed figure advanced to meet him. 

The proud blood rose hotly in my lady’s face as she saw that 
look, and noticed that he never offered to raise his hat, or re- 
move the cigar. 

No queen ever walked up to assume her crown with greater 
dignity than Lady^ Darner went up to the young man, who wait- 
ed in calm triumph for her. 

‘ ‘ Good-evening, my lady, ” he said ; “ I am glad you have 


come. 


274 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 * SECRE T. 


“You said the business on which you wished to see me was 
important. I am here to listen to it.” 

“The wisest plan,” he replied. “ It does not immediately 
concern you, but you will have a share in it. I know a secret, 
Lady Darner, and the secret is your sister’s.” 

“You can know nothing to her discredit,” she replied. “ I 
cannot imagine why you have dared to send for me here to 
speak of my sister’s affairs.” 

He laughed. 

“ I have already made my bargain with your sister,” he said ; 
“now I have one to make with you.” 

She looked the disgust she did not speak. It seemed to her 
that the very air was contaminated by his breath and the sound 
j)f his words. 

She loosened the shawl with which she had covered her head, 
in order that she might the more easily breathe the fresh night 
air ; then he saw the gleam of her costly jewels, the light of the 
rare emeralds. 

“If you are wise,” he said, slowly, “and wish to enjoy all 
that is now yours, you will listen to what I have to say to you — 
listen and heed.” 

She could have struck him ; she could have slain him with 
one glance of her proud eyes ; but she controlled herself by a 
violent effort, and stood still. 

The wind whispered round her, the trees had recovered from 
the sudden shock of silence that had fallen over them, the leaves 
trembled, the branches shook, and neither of them heard the 
sound of a light, stealthy footstep drawing nearer to the^i. 

“ I am not accustomed to such language, ” said Lady Da- 
rner. 

“Nor are you accustomed to such news,” said Rob “I 
asked you to come here. Lady Darner, because I thought per- 
haps you would cry out when ybu heard what I had to say ; 
that would draw attention to it, and that you may wish to 
avoid. ” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


275 

It cannot concern me,” she replied, with a sickly sense of 
wonder as to what it could be. 

Rob bent down his head.' He had the grace to remove his 
cigar, now that the conversation had become serious. 

“Do not be frightened,” he said, with more consideration 
than one would have given him credit for. “Such things arc 
common enough, only ladies like you know nothing of them. 
Do not draw away from me, my lady, as though my words were 
so much poison. You will find that I am really acting as a good 
friend to you and yours. ” 

“I wish,” she said, haughtily, “ that you would come to the 
point, and tell me why you are here.” 

“It can be done in a. few words,” he retorted. “It is only 
for your own sake that I say, ^Come near and listen.’ You 
would not like even the trees and birds to hear what I have to 
say. ”- 

Then she forgot her pride, and bent her stately head to re- 
ceive her death-blow. 

“You are younger than your sister by many years,” he said ; 
“it is to be imagined that you know nothing of the secrets of 
her earlier life.” 

“She has none,” was the calm reply. 

And again Rob Elster laughed the laugh for which she could 
have slain him. 

“lam sorry to disturb such a pleasant impression,” he said; 
“but you must be undeceived. I thought it easier to tell you. 
Lady Darner; but when I look at your face, so cold and proud 
in the moonlight, I — I am half afraid.” . 

And the man, who had been both coward and spy, shrank 
from the clear gaze bent upon him. 

“ Go on,” she replied, briefly. 

But his face had grown paler than her own. It vvas not so 
easy to look into that beautiful, proud face and tell her how 
base he had been. 

“ Long years ago,” he began, “so long ago that you will not 


276 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET 


remember it, your sister went to a place called Riversmead — 
perhaps you never heard the name ?” 

She stood quite still, though the warm blood left her face, 
and seemed to freeze round her heart ; her white lips parted, 
but no sound came from them ; her jeweled hands clutched the 
rail of the gate for support, but no murmur escaped her. 

“It is not likely that she would ever tell you,” continued 
Rob ; ‘ ‘ but she went to Riversmead, and there she had a son. 
I do not know anything about her being married. ” 

“What.?” cried a terrible voice no one could have recognized 
as Lady Darner’s ; “say that again !” 

“I repeat, that your sister. Miss Hope Charteris, had a son 
at this place called Riversmead, and that she kept his birth a 
profound secret from all the world, that it is a secret from all 
the world, that it is a secret now to every one but to her and to 
me.” 

He saw the proud head droop, he saw the stately figure bend 
until she knelt and laid her face on the bar of the gate. He 
heard moan after moan come from those white lips, so full of 
unutterable anguish and woe that, hard as he was, his heart was 
touched. 

^ ‘ There is nothing to grieve so desperately about, ” he said ; 
“I shall never tell, you may be sure.” 

But she only bent her golden head still lower. 

“Heaven! Heaven!” he heard her say, “Thou hast for- 
saken me.” 

She did not weep ; no tears came from the eyes she raised 
to his. 

“Tell me,” she said, “how do you know this ?” 

“ Hark !” said Rob ; “ I thought I heard a noise. It was only 
the wind in the trees, I suppose. I will tell you how I know 
it. Lady Darner, if you will listen, and not moan so pitifully.” 

But she only covered her face more closely, that it should be 
hidden from his view. 


LADY dames: ’S SECRET. 


277 


CHAPTER XLVIL 

KNOWN AT LAST. 

You may believe me, Lady Darner, that there is no cause 
for fear. There is not a human being in the wide world who 
knows, or ever will know, if you only promise to give me what 
I want. I found it out by my own wit — by exercising my own 
sharpness. I knew something of it years ago, but not all. She 
has kept the fact of his existence very quiet.” 

Then the haggard fece, with its wild eyes, was raised to his. 
A hoarse voice whispered : 

“What is it you say.? — bis existence? My God ! — do you 
mean that he is alive?” 

“ Of course he is. If he were not alive, how should I know 
anything about him ?” 

“Alive !” she repeated, and, despite his astonishment, he 
stopped to think that the voice was like that of a dying woman. 

“Alive — yes ; and she has managed it so nicely that he is at 
home with you all. Believe me. Lady Darner, I am speaking* 
gospel truth to you. The young man you know as Verner El- 
ster, is really no other than the son of your sister, Hope Char- 
teris. ” 

Another moan — so faint, this time, that he feared she was 
dying. 

“ Your sister has kept it very quiet.” 

She raised her head suddenly, and looked at him with wild, 
burning eyes. 

“ Who are you ?” she cried ; “ how do you know this ? Who 
are you ?” 

He lowered his voice to a still more confidential tone. 


278 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


He is my foster-brother ; he has always passed, you know, 
as the son of my mother, Jane Elster. 

“ I have never heard of Jane Elster, only as his mother — who 
is she ?” 

“She lived at Riversmead when your sister was there, and I 
suppose Miss Charteris came to know that she was a young 
widow, and asked her to adopt the child. She has kept my 
mother ever since, and my mother, I can assure you, has kept 
her secret. ” 

She made him no reply, but he heard her moan : 

“Oh, Hope ! Hope ! through all these long years, my dar- 
ling I have never known !” 

While she knelt there, her head bent in lowly abasement, 
there came to her a revelation of what this sister’s love had been 
■ — half human, half divine — how it had stood between her and 
all harm ; how it had borne the weight and buiden of a secret 
all for her ; how it had sheltered and shielded her. 

“ Oh, Hope ! my sister, what have you done for me ?” 

“She was not likely to tell you,” said Rob, consolingly. “I 
do not say she was not married ; but, if she was, it must have 
been to some one she was ashamed of, or she would not have 
kept the secret, or been afraid to own the child. You must 
have been a very young girl, then — of course, she would not 
tell you. ” 

Then he began to feel uncomfortable. It was not pleasant 
to see that stately figure lying prostrate there, to see the proud 
lady struck, silent and dumb, with a blow more cruel than 
death. 

If she would but rise, confront him, grow angry, do anything 
but kneel with those clasped hands. He thought he would en- 
courage her. 

“Come, Lady Darner,” he said, reasoningly, “you make 
more of it even than Miss Charteris did. She only turned sick, 
and faint, and white for a few minutes. It does not concern 
you as it did her. ” 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET. 


379 


He had aroused her at last. She looked up to him. 

“You have spoken to my sister, then — to Miss Charteris.? 
What did she say ?” 

“She took the matter very quietly, very sensibly,” replied 
Rob. “ She is not one of the fainting, hysterical kind of ladies. 
She did not make any attempt at denying it. She admitted it, 
fully.” 

“Admitted it — said that he was her son ?” she cried. 

“ To be sure.” 

And then she began to sob again. 

“Oh, Hope ! Hope ! my sister, what have you done.?” 

“My suspicions were aroused years ago,” continued Rob. 
“I found my mother living comfortably on money of which 
she never chose to speak openly, and I was determined to find 
out from whence it came. Another thing that used to vex and 
puzzle me was, everybody remarked the great diflference between 
us. People used to say he was like a gentleman, and I should 
make a good butcher. That was not pleasant to bear, and I 
resolved to find out why we two, who were supposed to be sons 
of one father, were so different.” 

“But, perhaps — perhaps,” she murmured, “you are mis- 
taken.” 

“No, I am not,” he replied, with a laugh. “I took veiy 
good care to have all my evidence tight and straight before I 
spoke one word to Miss Charteris. The best proof that I made 
no mistake is. Miss Charteris never attempted to deny it. She 
owned the truth at once, though you may be very sure that it 
was not pleasant hearing for her. ” 

“Oh, Hope !” she wailed again, “my sister !” 

“Not only did Miss Charteris own the truth, but she made a 
bargain with me about keeping it. That shows how earnest she 
was, and of what importance she considered it,” 

“What was the bargain .?” she asked, faintly. 

“ Miss Charteris promised me a thousand a year if I w;ould 


28 o 


LAD Y DAMER ’ S' SECRE T. 


swear to keep her secret while I lived. I have sworn, and I 
have the first quarter’s money in my pocket now. ” 

“Hope ! my Hope !’’ said the faint voice again. 

‘ ‘ She thought the secret worth it, and she knows best. ” 

‘ ‘ Do you want another thousand from me she asked. 

“No, Lady Darner. I have no poetry in me ; I never even 
understood what poetry was ; but the bargain I have to make 
with you is not money ; I want something much more precious 
from you.” 

“ From me she repeated. 

“Yes. You have a treasure that I would lay down my life 
to possess. ” 

“Is it jewels.?” she cried, clutching eagerly at the diamond 
brooch on her white breast. 

“One jewel that is beyond all price. I saw your daughter 
in London, Lady Darner, and I think her the most beautiful 
creature that ever lived. Will you give her to me to be my 
wife?” 

She sprang up before him, erect enough, haughty enough 
now. The shawl fell from her golden head. Her eyes flashed 
fire. 

“If I were a man,” she said, “I would strike you dead at 
my feet for daring to use such words !” 

“Now, my lady — Lady Darner, do not insult me. Strike 
me dead, indeed, for offering to marr)^ your daughter ! Has it 
struck you that, if the story were known, you might find a diffi- 
culty in marrying her? Some people, you know, are particu- 
lar over character. ” 

He shrank from the angry fire of her proud eyes. 

“It is all very well to take the upper hand with me in that 
fashion,” he went on, “ but I tell you very plainly you will have 
to give in. A thousand a year is very nice, but it would be use- 
less to me unless I was married as I wish. I want some one to 
push me on in the world, and Lord Darner could do that.” 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRET. 


281 


She shrank and shivered. Her proud, stately husband aid 
such a man as this ! 

“You can please yourself,” he continued. “If you refuse, 
I shall go to Lord Darner, and expose your sister.” 

“ He would not believe you,” she gasped. 

“ Oh, yes, he would. I could bring him such proof he could 
not help believing. I should not rest content with telling him, 
but I would let all your grand neighbors know it ; and, when 
you saw Miss Charteris with her head in the dust, I think, my 
lady, you would repent not having come to terms with me. I 
have been told there is no man in England so proud as Lord 
Darner. You can fancy how much he would like to know that 
his sister-in-law’s son was Lord Dysart’s secretar}^ I am not 
so bad, after all ; there are worse in the world, a thousand 
times. It will be better for you to listen to reason.” 

“But,” cried the unhappy lady, bewildered, “what can I 
do.!^ Even were I willing — and I am not — to sacrifice my 
daughter, do you not know that she is engaged to be married 
to Lord St. Albans 

“Then the engagement must be broken off,” he replied, 
coolly. “ Rely upon it. Lady Darner, Lord St. Albans, when 
he knows what I must call the family disgrace, will not v/ish to 
marry her. You can break it off quietly, if you like.” 

“I cannot,” she cried, wringing her hands. “Oh, Heaven, 
help me ! What shall I do 

“You can have time to think of it,” said Rob. 
wish to hurry you, provided you see reason at last.” 


“ I do not 


282 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 

RED VENGEANCE. 

‘‘Ido not wish that you should hurry your decision,” re- 
peated Rob ; “think it well over. You know which way your 
own safety lies, /can wait a little longer. If it pleases you, I 
will meet you here again.” 

“No!’ she cried, shrinking from him; “I will not. I 
could not live with such a sword hanging over my head. Xet 
me think.” 

She pushed the golden hair back from her forehead, and laid 
her hot brow against the cool leaves. 

“Let me think. My brain is whirling — my senses are all 
confused. Did you tell me that Hope, my sister, owned this 
child was hers 

“ Certainly; she made no attempt at denying it.” 

“And she promised you a thousand a year to keep the se- 
cret she continued. 

“Yes, and would have given me more, had I asked it.” 

“She made no attempt to lay the burden on another?” she 
continued, eagerly. “She did not pretend — she did not say — 
she was taking charge of the child for another i’V-v 

“ She did not say that,” interrupted Rob, with a quiet laugh ; 
“she knew it would be useless.” 

“She did not try to throw the blame on any one else?” 

“ No ; why should she ? Miss Charteris is gifted with plenty 
of common sense ; she uses it. Lady Darner.” 

“And, not satisfied with what you have, extorted from her, 
you now betray her confidence, and come to me to see what 
further you can extort from me.” 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 * SECRE T, 


283 


No,” he replied ; “not that. I want nothing from you but 
your daughter.” 

“If I offered you two thousand a year?” 

“It is not money,” he replied, sullenly. “I want your 
daughter. I have fixed my heart on having Rose for my wife — 
and your husband would push my fortune in the world.” 

“He would slay you rather,” she replied, haughtily. 

He laughed. 

“It wouldjDe better for the family honor and name if I lay 
dead,” he said; “but I have plenty to live for. When one 
considers all that has happened. Miss Rose might do worse.” 

She made no indignant reply now. Her strength seemed 



!ng her. She leaned against the rails of the gate, and 


looked at hiih with the helpless look of a little bird cruelly 


snared. 


“ Beautiful as you are, proud as you are, my lady,” thought 
Rob, with a smile, “I have brought you low.” 

“Mr. Elster,” she said, in a faint, low voice, “would it be 
of any use to appeal to your mercy, to ask you to take com- 
passion on me, and take money, jewels, anything I have, but 
to spare my daughter and to spare me ?” 

Rob moved uneasily. 

“ It is hard to say ‘no,’ Lady Darner, but I want nothing ex- 
cept what I have asked for — your daughter.” 

“But surely,” she continued, in the same low voice, “surely 
I have heard something of a young girl you loved in your own 


home?” 


“I fancied soj^ he replied. “I thought I loved her until I 


^aw your daughter, Lady Darner, then I found out that an ig- 
norant country girl could not have any charm for me.” 

Neither of them heard a faint rustle in the thick bushes. 

“If you would but give up this fatal idea,” said Lady Da- 
rner, “if you would but go to your own home and marry this 
girl you say you loved, I would make you rich.” 

“You would dispose of me comfortably,” he replied, with a 


284 


LAD Y DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


short laugh.' “lam not quite sure whether I should think 
this girl whom I once loved fit to be a servant of mine now'. 
Times are altered with me. ” 

Those were the last words ho ever uttered. They fell clearly 
and distinctly in the deep, brooding silence. Did Lady Darner 
ever forget that moment.? — the golden stars shining in the dark- 
ling sky, the leaves all still as though in suspense, the twilight 
gloom that lay over thai^^rld, the faint perfume of the flow'ers, 
the tall figure of Rob Elster leaning against the gate, his w'ords 
falling so clearly in the quiet air. She looked up to answer 
him, and the moonlight fell on a white, despairing face. 

But the answer she contemplated never passed her lijjs ; for 
the sound of a sharp, sudden shot was heard. fThen came a 
terrible cry — the life-blood flowed over her dresi^^and baads, 
and then Rob Elster, swaying heavily for one Half moment, fell 
against her — dead ! 

At first she w'as paralyzed ; she recoiled from him, and he fell, 
face foremost, in the thick grass ; and the brooding silence of 
night infolded her as she stood there stricken by horror great as 
death itself. 

She did not hear the rustle of the branches as some one part- 
ed them quickly. She stood dazed, bewildered, lost. One cry 
escaped her. 

“Oh, my God!’' she said, “w'hat is it.?” 

She sa\v her hands red with blood — her dress stained wdth it 
— and a deadly, sickly terror crept over and riveted her. 

She did not realize at first what had happened — she did not 
understand that he was shot dead! It was like a terf'ible dream 
— a hideous unreality 1 What was it .? What did that sharp, 
sudden sound mean.? What was it lying, warm and wet, on 
her hands, trickling slowly down her dress.? Why was he lying 
there so still .? Oh, God of mercy I. what was it.? 

She bent down and spoke to him ; there was no reply. She 
half raised his head, and saw, in the gloom of the night, a dead 
face, horrible in its expressions of agony. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


285 

With a cry that rose to the highest heavens, she fled away 
through the grove of lime trees, shuddering now in the whis- 
pering breeze, through the rose garden, back into the house she 
had quitted, up into the safe shelter of her own room. 

Ah, thank Heaven! no one was there; how could she have 
met husband or maid with that terrible stain on her hands and 
her dress } She locked the door, and then stood gasping for 
breath, looking around her like a wild animal brought to bay. 

There was profound silence in the house ; it was broken once 
by the laughter of Lord Darner. She heard it, and the sound 
smote her with horror. 

She sank slowly on the ground. 

“My God 1” she cried; “help me, 01 I must die 1” 

Her brain seemed to have lost all power of acting ; she was 
paralyzed as one who has received a violent blow on the head. 
Then from the gathering horror and gloom, the thought came 
slowly to her that she must remove all trace of the stains, or 
what would her husband think when he saw her .? 

She stood up, with trembling limbs, and removed the costly 
jewels ; then she took off her dress ; it was of pearl-gray satin, 
and the horrible crimson marks had covered the front. She 
rolled it up hastily and threw it into a corner of the wardrobe ; 
then she tried to wash her hands, but the water was cold, and 
she could not remove the stains. 

There was nothing for it but to ring the bell for one of the 
house-maids to bring up warm water, and she did so hurriedly, 
dreading lest her husband should come. 

The servant-girl looked in astonishment at the white, rigid, 
beautiful face, and the long golden-brown hair that fell in con- 
fusion. 

“Shall I call your ladyship’s maid.?” she asked. 

“No, no 1 ” said Lady Darner; “I do not want her; I told 
her not to wait. Will you bring me some hot water, quickly.?” 

While she spoke she was most anxiously trying to hide the 
crimson-stained hands from the lynx eyes that nothing ever 


286 


LADY DAMDR^S SECRET. 


escapes. It seemed to her a whole eternity while she stood 
there waiting. 

When the maid returned, ‘‘Set down the water, and go,” she 
said, not daring to stretch out her hand. 

j The girl obeyed ; but when she left that room her face was 
not much less white or terrible than Lady Darner’s. . 

She poured the hot water quickly into the basin and laid her 
hands in it. Then she grew sick again as she watched the water 
gradually growing crimson too. They were white once more. 
She held them up to the light — they were clean. Then she . 
threw the crimson water away. 

All this time it seemed to her she did not breathe. A low 
moan, that was almost a sob, crossed her lips. Never once did 
her tortured thoughts return to the silent figure lying face down- 
ward in the long grass. 

Suddenly the overstrained nerves gave way, and Lady Darner 
fell, white and senseless, by the bedside. There, perhaps, never 
was oblivion more mercifully given. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

THE SHADOW OF THE CLOUD. 

Lord Darner cried out in alarm when he saw the white, sense- 
less figure of his wife lying on the floor. He hastened to her, 
he raised her in his arms. 

“Florence,” he said, “my darling, what is the matter.?” 

He had no time to ring for help ; the merciful oblivion was 
too soon over. She opened her eyes at the sound of that well- 
loved voice, and their wild anguish startled him as he had never 
been startled before. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


287 

‘*0h, Floy, what have you been doing?— that wretched /e/e. 
You have overtired yourself, and I shall never forgive myself 
for letting you do it. 

She turned her head away. Oh ! if she might but die, then 
and there in his arms, before the full shock of the discovery 
came. 

“What shall I fetch for you?” he asked. “Let me call your 
maid. ” 

But she clung the more closely to him. 

“No, let me be alone with you, Karl. I shall be better 
alone; I was overtired, and fainted.” 

He laid her head on his breast, and caressed her as he would 
have done a little child. 

. “My beautiful Floy— my precious wife! I would far rather 
never have given a party again than that you should have grown 
so tired. Why have you done it, darling? Hope would have 
helped me, and Isabel, too. You are not strong. If you are 
not better to-morrow you shall not rise — no, not for all the 
duchesses in the county, my own Floy.” 

The tender, loving words seemed to half lull the stupefied 
brain. There were moments even when she could not remem- 
ber what had happened. Something awful, blank, dreary. 
Something that had shaken her heart and soul. 

She put one white arm round her husband’s neck. 

“ Karl, ” she said, “ do you love me so very much?” 

“More than any words can tell you, Florence.” 

“As much as you did years ago, when you first married me?” 
she whispered. 

“More, my darling — ten thousand times more. You were 
my bride then, Florence, the sweetest, fairest bride that ever 
was — but now you are dearer to me. You have been my be- 
loved, honored wife, how long? the queen of my heart, the 
mistress of my home, and the revered mother of my children; 
talk of love — why, my darling, I could not love you better if I 
tried. ” ' r- 


288 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


She looked at him with unutterable woe in her beautiful 
eyes. 

“You shall not talk to me any more,” he said, “though it is 
a pleasant topic ; you must rest yourself, darling — I will not 
hear another word. And remember, if you do not feel well 
and strong in the morning, I shall not "hear of your rising ; we 
will make the feie a success without tiring you. ” 

She could not help herself. She would have liked to say 
ij^re to him. She longed to ask him, if sorrow or disgrace 
yPtme near her, would he love her then .? But a dull torpor was 
^creeping slowly over the tried brain — a dim, dreary blank seemed 
^spreading around her — she laid her head on the pillow ; it was 
not sleep that came to her, neither sleep nor oblivion. She 
was simply stupefied. Had any one said to her, “Rob Elster 
was shot dead by your side an hour since,” it would have seemed 
to her news that she had not known. She did not even remem- 
ber that her sin and her secret had found her out. She did not 
remember ivhy she had been standing under the trees, or fore- 
see the terrible consequence. A mist lay over her thoughts; 
she closed her eyes, and the only thing of which she was con- 
scious was a prayer, in the depth of her heart, that she might 
die. 

So she lay until the first gray dawn of morning, then she 
heard the faint song of the little birds outside. The mist was 
clearing away, her thoughts slowly returning ; and the first was, 
whether that quiet figure still lay with its face hidden in the 
grass. 

The merciful darkness and silence of night was over — the 
day, with all its horrors, was before her. The gleam of a gold- 
en sunbeam came in at the window. She remembered the fete 
— there was her superb costume all prepared for it; and there, 
in the wardrobe, the pearl-gray satin, with the crimson stains. 

How would it first be known .? — who would be the first to find 
the silent figure.? — who would spread the alarm.? — and if they 


LADY DA MED ’ S SEC RE T. 289 

came running in to tell, how could she control herself so as to 
hide her knowledge of it? 

Oh, that the sun should ever have risen on such a day ! She 
buried her beautiful face in the pillow. What was coming.? — 
what dreadful, remote horror was in the far distance.? — what 
cold weight lay at her heart, and seemed to stop its beating .? 

Hour after hour she lay watching the golden sunbeam as it 
crept onward, listening to the song of the birds, that rose into a 
grand chorus at last; listening for the first word or footstep th^ . 
should announce the discovery. 

It did not come. Lord Darner had asked her if she felt bet- 
ter, and on hearing how faint was the voice that replied, had , 
forbidden her to move. He had gone down to see about the 
letters, and her maid brought her a cup of tea. ^ 

“You look so ill, my lady,” said the girl. “How unfortu- 
nate, and this is the day of the fete,'' 

Then ij^came — a hurried knock at her door, a hurried voice, 
asking eagerly if my lord was there. 

She could not breathe, from sheer suspense and fright. Then 
her husband’s voice was speaking to her. 

“Floy, my darling,” he said, “do not be frightened. I 
thought it better to come to you myself. Servants exaggerate 
so terribly. There has been an accident in the woods; nothing 
for you to be anxious about.” 

‘ ‘ What is it .?” she asked. 

“I do not know yet — perhaps a poaching fray. Some man 
has been hurt. I am going down to see about it. I should 
not like a word of it to get known to-day ; it would spoil the 
fete. ” 

When she opened her eyes he was gone, and Hope stood 
there, looking down in wonder at the white, tortured face. 

“ Floy, my darling, ’’she cried, in unutterable wonder, “Karl 
tells me you are ill ; you look half dead.” 

At the sound of that beloved voice, the last remnant of the 


290 


LADV DAMEH^S SECRET. 


unhappy lady’s strength gave way. She broke out inlo a fit of 
hysterical weeping, dreadful to hear. 

“Oh, Hope I Hope !” she cried, “come and comfort me !” 

And Hope — God bless her ! — clasped the beautiful figure in 
her arms, and tried to check the passionate tears. 

“What is the matter, my darling?” 

But Lady Darner, looking up into the kind, motherly face, 
could not tell her that the secret she had staked her life was 
safe, was now known. She could only cry : 

“Comfort me, Hope.” 

And Hope kissed her as she had done when she was a child. 

Then the maid came in with a pale, scared face, anxious, as 
servants often are, to be the first to tell strange tidings. 

“Oh ! my lady,” she cried, “have you heard the news, the 
dreadful news ?” 

“Lady Darner is ill,” said Miss Charteris, sternly; “this is 
no time to tell her ill news.” 

But Lady Darner raised her face, and said : 

“ What is it? Tell me — I would rather know.” 

“A gentleman has been murdered in the woods, against the 
coppice gate. ” 

Murdered cried Lady Darner, and, for the first time, the 
terrible idea came home in full force to her. Murdered, did 
you say ?” 

“Yes, my lady; shot dead through the heart, they say.” 

“In these woods?” interrupted Miss Charteris. 

“At the end of the lime grove he was found, lying by the lit- 
tle gate,” continued the woman, delighted at the impression 
she had made; “and my lord says he has been dead for hours.” 

“ How dreadful !” said Miss Charteris. “ I suppose it was a 
poacher. There must have been a disturbance with the keep- 
ers.” 

A strange look came over the maid’s face. 

“No,” she said, “it is not a poacher. My lord thought so 
at first, and he would not allow the body to be removed until 


LADY DAMER*S SECRET, 291 

the superintendent of the police came. It is some one wh«n 
my lord knows.” 

Then, indeed, Miss Charteris looked up in surprise. The 
least glimmer of the truth had not occurred to her. 

“Indeed ! Who is it, then ?” she asked. 

“ My lord called him Mr. Elster,” she replied, “and said he 
was the brother of Mr. Verner Elster, jvho was here visiting 
some time since.” 

Then the maid, having no more to say, hastened from the 
room, leaving the two sisters gazing at each other with horror- 
stricken eyes. 


CHAPTER L. 

“shot dead.” 

Lord Darner had gone down to the breakfast-room to see 
about some particular letter that he expected. He had whis' 
pered to Hope that Florence was not at all well, that she wai 
very tired, and asked her to take the superintendence of the 
breakfast-table. 

Isabel Darner had looked up with her keen eyes. 

“What is that, Karl? — Florence tired? I am very sorry. 
She ought to be in brilliant looks and brilliant spirits, too, on 
the day of the 

Lord Darner did not quite like the tone of the lady’s voice. 

“ There is never any want of brilliancy in Lady Darner,” he 
replied, coldly, and Isabel smiled contemptuously. 

It was a relief to her to turn to pretty Mrs. Tempest, who sat 
at her right hand, and speak half pityingly of Lord Darner s in- 
fatuated fondness for his wife. 


292 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


# “I assure you,” she said, “he can see no fault in her. In 
h!s eyes, she is everything that is perfect.” 

“It should be so,” said Mrs. Tempest. “I hope my hus- 
band thinks the same of me. ” 

*‘Oh ! yes, certainly,” replied Isabel, moralizing; “but then 
these very intense lovers frighten me, Mrs. Tempest. Man 
must not make idols, you know. I am always afraid lest some- 
thing should happen to punish the idolatry. ” 

Mrs. Tempest tried, for a minute, to look as though she 
were in church, failed mosPdecidedly, and began to think Mistress 
Isabel many degrees less charming than she had first believed. 

In the meantime, a footman had glided quietly into the 
room, and had spoken a few quiet words to Lord Darner. One 
or two of the visitors saw him look up hurriedly. A few min- 
utes afterward he calmly and quietly left the room. 

The calm and quiet died out of his face as he saw the little 
knot of servants talking in the hall. He went up to them at 
once. 

“What is this?” he asked ; “ what is found ?” 

“A man shot dead, my lord ; Roberts, the head-keeper, 
found him, half an hour ago, lying by the coppice gate. ” 

‘ ‘ Dead A’ asked Lord Darner. 

“Cold and dead, for long hours past, my lord.” 

“Send at once to Avonwold for the inspector of police. Let 
nothing be done or touched uutil he comes,” said Lord Darner. 
“Has there been any poaching during the night?” 

“ Roberts knew nothing of it,” was the reply. 

And then Lord Darner, knowing his wife was nervous, and 
easily frightened, went to her room to tell her the truth himself, 
before any one else could terrify her. 

He dressed himself, but would not go to the spot until the 
superintendent arrived. He had not long to wait. 

Sergeant Ayrton soon arrived with two of his most active and 
intelligent men. They went together, with some of the men- 
servants from Avonwold. 


LADY DAMER 'S SECRET. 


293 


Roberts, the keeper, was standing by the gate, and there, 
the long grass, they saw the dead body lying, still untouched/ 

Roberts touched his hat most respectfully to Lord Darner. 

“I know the value of evidence, my lord,’' he said, “and I 
have not allowed the body to be touched until the superintend- 
ent came.” 

“You have done quite right,” said Lord Darner ; “ one can- 
not be too cautious in these cases.” 

Then Sergeant Aryton knelt down, and, raising the body in 
his arms, turned the face to the light. 

“This is no poacher, ” he said. “It is a case of murder. 
This man has been shot through the heart.” 

Lord Darner bent down to look at the rigid face, on which 
the summer sun shone ; then he cried out, in a loud voice : 

“ I know this man.” 

“You know him, my lord.?” 

“ Yes,” he continued ; “he is the brother of a gentleman 
who visited us. It is Mr. Robert Elster. What can have 
brought him here, and who can have shot him ?” 

“That is what we have to find out,” said the sergeant. “Yes, 
there can be no mistake, my lord ; he must have been lying 
here for hours. What is to be done ?” 

One of the men suggested that the body should be carried 
into the keeper’s cottage, which was near, and there remain un- 
til the inquest was held. 

A litter was soon brought, and then they raised the silent fig- 
ure that had lain there through all the long, silent hours of the 
summer night. 

There were stains of blood on the grass, and the leaves, and 
the wild flowers. 

“A terrible shot,” said the sergeant, quietly. 

Lord Darner stood very quiet ; he looked pale and anxious ; 
he did not like this murder, so close to the gates of his home. 

“ Do you think it is a robbery .?” he asked. “ I cannot ac- 
count for such a terrible deed. ” 


294 


LAD y DAMDD ’ 5 SRC RE T. 


Sergeant Ayrton emptied the pockets of the dead man. 

“It could not have been a robbery,” he said; “there is no 
lack of money here.” 

There was not, indeed. A large purse was filled with gold ; 
there was, besides, a roll of bank-notes; the gold watch and 
chain, upon which poor Rob had prided himself, was untouched ; 
the rings shone on the dead fingers. 

“No,” said Sergeant Ayrton, “there has been no robber}', 
my lord. It is a case of murder T 

“ Who could have done it.? What is the object? I should 
not say this poor fellow had one enemy in the whole wide world. 
Who can have shot him down like a dog at my own doors ?” 

“We shall find all that out, my lord,” replied the sergeant. 
He turned, then, to one of his men. “ Do you remain here, ” 
he said, “and search well among the grass. You will find, per- 
haps, a weapon, or something that may give us a clew.” 

Then a mournful procession was formed, and the dead man 
was cairied to the keeper’s tent, carried through the golden 
gleam of sunshine, the music of the birds, and the sweet fra- 
grance of woodland flowers. 

Lord Darner stood by while the quiet figure was laid on the 


bed. 


“It is very sad,” he said, “ very dreadful. The brother of 
this unfortunate young man is Lord Dysart s secretaiy. He 
He is the son of a widowed mother, who will feel his loss most 
keenly. T cannot help thinking, Ayrton, that he has been shot 
by one of the keepers in mistake for a poacher.” 

“It may be so,” was the cautious reply. “That would be, a 
misadventure — not so bad as a murder, not so dreadful. We 
can do no more here, my lord. I shall leave one of my men 
here for the remainder of the day.” 

^In the meantime, the policeman who had been told to search 
thp gipund had most diligently pursued his occupation. He 
had exj^ected to find a pistol, a revolver, but nothing of the 
kind rewarded his search. 



LAD Y DAMER ’ S SECRE T, 295 

There was no scrap of paper, no half-torn envelope, no knife 
bearing initials — nothing. 

Policeman Knox was disappointed ; his superintendent would 
not be pleased if he had nothing to show him, whereas, if he 
had the good fortune to make a discovery, however small, it 
would be well for him. 

He went patiently, inch by inch, over the ground ; he found 
nothing but crimson stains. 

Just as he was giving up the search in despair, his eye was at- 
tracted by the glitter of something shining on the other side of 
the gate ; he hastened there, and, parting the leaves, saw a 
bracelet on the ground. He picked it up with an exclamation 
of surprise. 

A superb bracelet, made of pale, pure gold, and studded with 
costly emeralds, the most beautiful ornament he had ever seen ; 
the clasp was unfastened, as though it had fallen unheeded from 
some one’s arm. 

He looked at it earnestly. Underneath the clasp was a spring ; 
he touched it ; it opened, and he saw a small portrait. It was 
one of exquisite beauty and finish ; he recognized it at once — 
Lord Darner’s face. 

“What does this mean he said ‘to himself. “It is very 
strange. ” 

He hurried with his prize to his superintendent, who looked 
anxious as he saw what it was. 

“I shall telegraph to Scotland Yard,” he said. “I do not 
like the appearance of this case ; there is more in it than one 
would think at first.” 

And that same morning he telegraphed for one of the ablest 
detectives on the staff. 



296 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


CHAPTER LI. 

AVONWOLD IN SHADOW. 

111 news spreads more quickly tha? good. Before ten o’clock 
that morning, the whole neighborhood knew that there had 
been a terrible murder at Avonwold, a man shot dead close to 
its very doors. 

Of course, it spoiled the fete. People may be gay, fond of 
pleasure and amusement, but few are heartless enough to dance 
over the grave of a fellow-creature. There was but little thought 
of dancing that day at Avonwold. Carriage after carriage drew 
up to the stately portals, containing ladies who had heard the 
story on their way, and declared with a shudder they could not 
think of intruding upon Lady Darner, who must have been ter- 
ribly shocked. 

Those who heard the news before the hour of starting, did 
not offer to leave home. Murder and death are not pleasant 
words. 

The horror was deepened when it became known that the 
young man found dead was a brother of Mr. Elster, Lord Dy- 
sart’s secretary and favorite. 

So the musicians who had been engaged packed up silently 
and went away. The flags waved among the trees, the beauti- 
ful decorations over which so much time and money had been 
expended were all useless ; the flowers gathered were left to 
wither and die ; men’s minds were filled with one idea — the ter- 
rible deed done under the lime trees. 

Her grace of Redfern drove up, one of the earliest guests. 
It was Mrs. Isabel Darner who received her, offering many 
apologies for the mistress of Avonwold, who lay ill and unable 
to rise in her room. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


297 


have heard/’ said the duchess, “a terrible thing. I do 
not wonder that Lady Damer is ill, though, between ourselves, 
I did not think she was so sensitive. I should never like a place 
again where anything of the kind had happened.” 

“It is most annoying,” said Isabel. “Of course our sym- 
pathies are all with the unhappy victim, but I cannot forget 
what annoyance it must be to Lord Damer, who was engrossed 
heart and soul in the fete. 

“Very tiresome for him. Do I understand you that Lady 
Damer is keeping her room ?” 

“Quite prostrate, and unable to rise,” was the reply, 

“Dear me!” and the duchess drew her chair nearer to Mrs. 
Darner’s. “Do you not think it strange that she should take 
the matter so deeply to heart? Of course the unfortunate per- 
son was quite a stranger to her?” 

“I should imagine so. But then, you know, my dear 
duchess, Lady Damer is difficult to understand — I could never 
get on with her.” 

“If anything of the kind happened at Hirstholme, I should 
be very grieved,” said the duchess, “but I really should 7iot take 
to my room.” 

“Nor I. But Lady Damer does what no one else would 
do.” 

“ I do not know why I have the impression,” continued her 
grace, “but I have an idea, Mrs. Damer, that we shall hear 
more of this. You will let me know if anything occurs.” 

“I \yill not fail,” replied Isabel, and the two parted with an 
unexpressed but none the less fervent wish that the foreboding 
should be accomplished. 

The Duchess of Redfern had never forgiven her beautiful 
young rival for usurping her throne ; she had waited all these 
long years with quiet malice to see if anything would happen to 
avenge hqr, and it seemed to her that at last there wis a glim- 
mer of light. 

“To go to her room ill because a strange man is shot dead 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


at her gate ! it is impossible, I shall hear more of this, or I am 
greatly mistaken.’" 

In the meantime, with the thoughtful kindness that charac- 
terized him. Lord Darner had sent over to Hatton Court. He 
told Lord Dysart as briefly as possible what had happened, 
and begged of him to break the intelligence gently to Verner 
Lister. 

“The better plan would be,"’ he wrote, “to bring him over 
here at once, as he may throw some light on what seems to me 
the most mysterious affair that ever happened.” 

Lord Dysart followed his friend’s advice ; he told his wife 
that the /ek at Avonwold was postponed in consequence of an 
accident that had happened in the park. When she asked 
eagerly what it was, he told her, and Lady Dysart, for Verner’s 
sake, was deeply grieved. 

“Not so much for the young man himself,” she said, “for I 
considered him, without exception, the most disagreeable per- 
son I had ever seen, but for poor Verner, who was so warmly 
attached to him.” 

Lord Dysart told his son, whose first thought, as a matter of 
course, was for Rose; how dreadfully unpleasant and disap- 
pointing for her. His second was of Verner, whom he loved 
as his own brother. 

“I wish one could bear it for him or save him from it,” he 
said to his father, when they went together to the room where 
Verner sat busily engaged with a catalogue he was preparing for 
Lord Dysart. 

He looked up with a smile on his face as they entered. 

“I am afraid I am late,” he said; “this should have been 
completed last evening. Lord Dysart, you will think I pre- 
sume on yo\k kindness.” 

“I shallRever think anything one half so disagreeable,” said 
Lord Dysart, and then looking at the bright, handsome face 
before him, he loathed his task. 

He walked idly to the table, and taking up some j'>apers that 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


299 


lay there he feigned to be deeply interested in them. Then, as 
though a sudden thought had struck him, he said : 

“When did you hear from home last, Verner?” 

“A few days since I had a letter from my mother,” he re- 
plied. 

“And your brother — does he write.?” 

“Not often; letters are not much in his way. I believe he 
dislikes pens and ink as much as he can dislike anything. ” 

He looked up with a smile into Lord Dysart’s face, but no 
answering smile met his. 

“Not in the least; in fact of late I have heard very little of 
him. My mother says nothing, and he does not often write 
himself.” 

“You would be surprised then to hear that he had been seen 
at Avonwold ?” 

Verner laughed. 

“I do not think I should believe it,” he replied ; “I should 
imagine it to be a case of mistaken identity.” 

“I fervently hope it may be so,” said Lord Dysart, gravely. 
“The fact is, Verner, I have had a note — a hurried, hastily- 
written note — from Lord Darner, and he tells me your brother, 
Mr. Robert Elster, was at Avonwold last night, and that an ac- 
cident has happened to him there — an accident so serious as to 
cause them to put off the fete which was to have been held there 
to-day. ” 

Verner had risen from his seat in uncontrollable surprise. 

“My brother Rob at Avonwold !” he cried. “There must 
be some mistake. Lord Dysart — it is impossible.” 

“Do you know of anything that would be likely 10 bring 
him here — had he any friends at Avonwold ?” 

“No. Lord and Lady Darner were both very kind to h.im 
while he was in London ; but it would never enter his mind to 
go to see them without telling me. If he u here, he has come 
to see me. ” 


300 


LADY DA MED ’ S SECRE T. 


“Then what took him to the coppice at the park ? He must 
have gone there purposely 

“Who says he was there?’' interrupted Verner. 

“Ah,” said Lord Dysart, sadly, “I forgot; you do not 
know. Yes, he was at the coppice gate, close to the lime 
grove, and he — ^^do not let me startle you, Verner, he was shot 
there.” 

“Shot! — my brother! Oh, Lord Dysart, there must be 

some mistake — it cannot be true !” 

“You shall come with us; we are going over at once ; come 
with us, and you will see.” 

A few minutes later the earl, his son, and his young secretary 
were driving hastily to the park. Verner spoke but seldom, he 
was stunned and bewildered, he could neither understand nor 
credit the story he had heard. What should Rob be doing at 
Avonwold? who would shoot him, unless, indeed, the keeper 
had imagined him to be poaching. 

But then he remembered the lime trees were close to the 
hall, a most unlikely place for keepers, whose duties lay in the 
park and the woods. 

They reached the keeper’s cottage; and there found Lord 
Darner waiting for them. He took Verner’s hand in his. 

“My dear boy,” he said, “this is very shocking, very dread- 
ful for you. Come up stairs with me ; I do not think I can 
have made a mistake in the identity.” 

They went up stairs all together, and Verner, looking at the 
dead face, cried : 

“There is ho mistake — it is indeed poor Rob.” 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


301 


CHAPTER LII. 

THE CEDAR TREE. 

Veraer Elster knelt down by his brother’s side and wept 
aloud. He had often reproached himself in life that he had 
not loved him better, that he had allowed Rob’s want of refine- 
ment to jar upon him — his coarseness and vulgarity to annoy 
him. 

He forgot all that now, and remembered there lay his only 
brother. They had been boys together, brought up by one 
mother under one roof, and the old home-love was strong upon 
him as he knelt by the dead man’s side. Poor Rob ! with all 
his faults, his brother, with whom he had quarreled and made 
peace, who shall say how many times The old boyish love 
rose up warm and deep in his heart. The elder men turned 
away their faces while he sobbed out his grief. 

Then he rose from his knees, and laid his hand on the silent 
breast. 

“My brother,” he said, gently, “who has done this to youf 
Who is your enemy ?” 

“It must have been an accident,” said Lord Dysart. “As 
you say, who would be so cruel a foe as to shoot a helpless 
man down dead ’ 

“'Was he shot dead/' asked Verner, in a low voice. “What 
will my mother say or do.? — he was her best beloved son.” 

“She should be sent for,” said Lord Darner. “I need not 
say, Mr. Elster, how deep is my regret at this most unfortunate 
affair, nor how sincere is my anxiety to do all in my power for 
your family, and to bring what light we can to bear upon the 
mystery. I tell you that as much respect shall be paid to your 
brother as though he had been my own. ” 


302 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


Then Lord St. Albans drew near. 

“Verner,” he said, gently, “has not your brother in any of 
his letters mentioned coming to Avonwold.?” 

“No, of late there has been a great change in him — a change 
that has made my mother veiy uneasy — he has spoken at ran- 
dom of great wealth that was to be his — of a new and very differ- 
ent life that lay before him. He has indulged in all kinds of ex- 
pensive tastes, and frightened my mother by always having in 
his possession a quantity of ready money. It is not very long 
since she wrote to me in great distress about these matters, but 
from my brother himself I have heard nothing for a long time.” 

“You have no idea why he came here.?” asked Lord Darner. 

“No more than you have yourself I am as much surprised 
as any one can be. ” 

“It is a mystery,” said Lord Dysart, and at that moment 
Sergeant Ayrton entered the room. 

“There has been no discovery?” asked Lord Darner. 

“None, my lord,” was the reply. “I hear the brother of 
the unfortunate young man has arrived. Does he identify 
him ?” 

“Yes,” said Verner, “there is not the slightest doubt, this is 
my unfortunate brother, Robert Elster.” 

“You can offer no suggestion as to the cause that has led to 
his death?” asked the sergeant. 

“It is the greatest mystery to me,” replied Verner. 

And then he wondered to see those keen eyes fixed on him 
with frank surprise in them. Sergeant Ayrton had seen a great 
deal of the world ; he was no mean judge of man and man- 
ners ; at one glance he had seen what manner of man it w’as 
who lay dead ; he had understood at once the class from which 
he sprang — yet, here was another, with the training of a young 
prince, with a beautiful patrician face, and the most perfectly 
high-bred demeanor, calling himself the dead man’s brother. 

Sergeant Ayrton looked from the dead to the living face, and 


LAD Y DAMER ’5 SECRET, 


303 

then said to himself that there was something strange, a mysteiy 
that must be unraveled. 

“I will show you, sir,” he said, ‘‘all the property found upon 
your brother. ” 

Verner’s eyes opened wide in wonder. There was, to begin 
with, a magnificent watch and chain, not of the showy kind, 
cheap and glittering, in which poor Rob had taken such eager 
delight, but a chain that might have been worn by any gentle- 
man in the land, and a watch equally as good. 

“Whatever might be the motive for the murder, it was not 
robber}^” said Sergeant Ayrton, decidedly; “this watch and 
chain must be worth a hundred pounds. ” 

“Where could he have got them from?” said Verner, won- 
deringly. “Ido not understand it at all,” he continued, turning 
to the sergeant. “We are quite poor people. I cannot im- 
agine how my brother became possessed of such things as 
these.” 

‘This does not look like poverty,” he said, opening a purse 
that was full of gold, and then drawing forth a bundle of bank- 
notes. “There are over three hundred pounds here. Your 
brother must have had some means of getting money that you 
know nothing of, sir.” 

“It must have been so. Was there nothing else?” 

“A pocket-boOk, but it contains very little. I have, of 
course, looked through everything. There is a bill from some 
lodging-house at a place called Riversmead, a railway ticket, 
and a broken ring — that is all.” 

But Sergeant Ayrton said nothing of a fragment of a letter in 
Rob’s handwriting, in which he found the words : 

“Lady Darner’s secret.” 

That he kept most carefully to himself, until the time should 
come for making it known. 

“All that I can see here simply increases the myster}^, ” said 
Verner. “ I know that my mother, in all her life, never had a 


304 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


hundred pounds ; how or where my brother has received this, I 
cannot tell. '' 

“It strikes me,” said Sergeant Ayrton, “that when we know 
this, we shall know more. ” 

“Lord Darner,” said Verner, “I think I will go to Croston 
and fetch my mother. If she were to read of this first in a news- 
paper, it would almost kill her. If Lord Dysart will give me 
the time, I would rather fetch her. Perhaps she might throw 
some light on what is a dead mystery to us.” 

Lord Dysart said some kindly words of sympathy, and told 
'V'erner he had better go at once.” 

“You will reach Croston to-night,” he said, “if you travel 
quickly, and your mother cannot read the story until to-morrow. 
Go at once. ” 

So they left the chamber of death. It was a relief to stand 
once more under the blessed sunshine, and feel the free breath 
of heaven around them. 

Lord St. Albans would not leave his friend until he saw him 
in the railway-carriage. The attachment between the two was 
singularly deep and fervent ; they never even seemed to remem- 
ber that there was any difference between them in rank or posi- 
tion, that they stood as employer and employed. They were 
true, dear friends. 

“Good-by, Verner, and God bless you. I wish I could 
share your trouble, or help you to bear it. Standing here in 
the sunshine, I suppose I ought to be ashamed of myself, but 
do you know I feel as though some terrible trouble were com- 
ing for us all ?” 

Verner had no time to reply, for the train started immediately ; 
but those words haunted him all the way to Croston. 

In the meantime. Lord Darner and the earl returned to Av- 
onwold. 

“It is very unfortunate for your fete;’ said Lord Dysart 
“ How little we dream what a few hours will bring forth !” 

Ah ! so little. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


305 


As they drew near the stately entrance, the head gardener, a 
Scotchman, who had been for some time in the service of the 
Darners, came with a grave face to meet his master. 

“What is it, McCullum ?” asked Lord Darner, struck by the 
man’s serious look. 

“My lord, I have very bad news for you. 1 have only just 
found it out. The great branch of the King’s Cedar is broken 
completely off, and is on the ground.” 

Lord Darner’s face grew verj^ pale. 

“ When did that happen ?” he asked. 

“ It must have been during the night, my lord. I was near 
to it yesterday afternoon, and it was all right ; it lies now as 
though some one had torn it from the tree.” 

“Why is it so great a trouble?” asked the earl, looking from 
one troubled face to another. 

Lord Darner turned to him with the faintest shadow of a 
smile. 

“You do not know the traditions of Avonwold. When a 
branch of that tree breaks, the prosperity of the house is ended. 
The cedar has stood for many generations. This is the first 
symptom of decay. Shall we go and look at it?” 

They went, and there, on the grass, lay the mighty branch of 
the grand old tree, broken as though some giant hands had 
torn it off. 

Lord Dysart said nothing ; his quick tact told him that his 
friend was more disturbed than he chose to own. He thought 
the truest kindness was to leave him. 

“If there should be anything that I can do for you, send for 
me ; remember, I am at your service any hour, night or day ; 
and I will do all in my power to help you. Do not look so 
anxious over the tree ; a legend is but a legend, after all. ” 

But long after the earl had left him. Lord Darner stood look- 
ing at the fallen branch. 

“Can evil be coming to our house?” he said, “we who have 


LAD Y DAMER ’ S SECRE T. 


306 

Stood on a rock so long. McCullum, have the branch thrown 
away, and say nothing of what has happened. ” 

And Lord Damer walked home with his face full of anxious 
thoughts. 


CHAPTER LIII. 

THE PERFUMES OF ARABIA. 

We left them looking with terrified, helpless glances into each 
other’s faces, these two sisters who had been all-in-all to each 
other. 

Hope’s white lips tried vainly to whisper some words of com- 
* fort, but they seemed stricken dumb and mute. The white 
arms were clinging round her, the beautiful, despairing face was 
raised to hers. 

“Oh, Hope! Hope!” cried the woeful voice, “help me! 
Oh, Heaven ! what am I to do .? What will become of me 

True to the last, true as she had been all her life, Hope tried 
to soothe her. 

‘ ‘ My darling, there is nothing for you to fear. ” 

“ But he is dead !” she cried, with a wild horror in her ey^s, 
“he is dead 1” 

“That is not your fault, my darling Floy. You have noth- 
ing to do with it. I am very sorry for him. Perhaps he was 
coming hereto^see me or his brother. It cannot concern you.” 

The remembrance of all that had passed came over her — the 
terror of that wretched hour under the lime trees, the wild hor- 
ror of finding herself covered with blood, as he fell dead at her 
feet, all rushed over the wretched lady at once, and, with a ciy 


LAD V DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 307 

that Hope Charteris never forgot, Lady Damer fell into a swoon 
that was like death itself 

Then there were hurry and distress. Miss Charteris rang the 
bell in hot haste. She told the terrified maid to send at once to 
Avonleigh for Dr. Curtiss, for Lady Damer was dangerously ill. 
She watched by her sister’s bed, listening to the carriages driv- 
ing away with the disappointed guests, and wondering what was 
going to happen in what seemed to be a doomed house. 

How much did her sister know .? Why did she show such 
excessive emotion, such terrible fear? Rob had not betrayed 
his secret, surely. Spy as he was, he was not mean and base 
enough for that. Surely the beautiful woman Iving there, white 
and silent as death itself, did not know that her secret was dis- 
covered. 

Hope Charteris soon dismissed that idea as improbable. To 
betray his secret was to lose the money for which he had schemed 
and maneuvered one-half of his life-time. Rogue he might 
have been — simpleton, never ; and it was not probable that he 
ever would have been foolish enough for that had he lived longer 
still. 

No, there could be no cause for Lady Darner’s emotion and 
fear, except the shock of knowing that such an evil deed had 
been done on the threshhold of her own home. 

Her sister never moved ; but for thevfaint pulsation of her 
heart, she might have been dead; and Hope sat trying to splve 
the mystery that was just then puzzling all the inhabitants of 

Avonwold. 

♦ 

What had brought Rob Elster there ? Could it be to see 
her ? One part of their agreement had been that he should 
• never intrude his presence upon her ; that when the arrange- 
ments for the payment of the money were all made, he should 
trouble her no more. 

He could not want money — that was impossible. She had 
given him a whole year’s income in advance. He had not even 
had time to spend it.- 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6* SECRE T, 


308 

It was hardly probable that he was there to see her ; or could 
it be that he had come with bad news for her — to tell her, per- 
haps, that, after all, others were on the track of the secret ? 

Hope Charteris grew sick with fear and dread as this thought 
occurred to her. 

Supposing it were so — how would it explain the mystery of 
his death? Who had shot him dead? Who had an interest 
in hi^ death ? 

“To me,"’ thought Hope, “some might think his death a 
relief I believe I am the only person who gains by it. I gain 
a thousand a year, and the preservation of a deadly secret, so 
the world would argue, were our story known ; but Heaven 
knows I have no hand in his death. If by a wish I could have 
willed it, I would not have done so.” 

Then her reverie was interrupted, for Dr. Curtiss hastily en- 
tered the room. 

“ I am sorry to hear of Lady Darner’s illness. Miss Charteris. 
Avonwold is quite under a cloud to-day. Is this story of a mur- 
der under the lime trees true ?” 

“Unfortunately,” replied Hope; “and the news has com- 
pletely unnerved my sister. She fell, more than an hour 
since, into this dead swoon, and nothing that I can do revives- 
her.” 

“Strange,” thought the doctor, “that a beautiful lady of 
fashion should take the death of a stranger so greatly to heart. ” 

He went up to the patient, and looked earnestly at the white 
face. 

“This is more serious than a swoon,” he said. “It is the 
commencement of something like brain fever. Your sister has 
had a terrible shock, Miss Charteris. ” 

“I cannot account for it,” she Said, thoughtfully. “Ah, see I 
she is moving.” 

But it was not a movement they could understand. A sud- 
den crimson flush colored her face a rose-red hue ; her eyec 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


309 

opened, and they were filled with a wild, fierce light horrible to 
see. 

But the movement that puzzled them was, she raised her 
hands, and . looked at them with a mournful little cry ; then, 
taking up the satin quilt, she rubbed them as though she would 
fain have removed some dark, disfiguring stain. 

“She is not herself," said Dr. Curtiss. “lam afraid she is 
going to have a serious illness. I must try what a strong seda- 
tive will do." 

It was just then that Lord Darner entered the room, and 
looked in wonder from his wife to the doctor. 

“What is the matter?" he asked. 

“Oh, Karl ! "cried Miss Charteris, “Florence is so ill. This 
terrible event has quite unnerved her." 

The name she uttered seemed to have caught the poor lady’s 
attention. 

“Karl," she murmured; “Karl, in the summer woods; 
Karl, under the lime trees; Karl, my husband." 

And, all the time she muttered to herself, she was rubbing 
her hands. 

“ Karl," she murmured again, “bring me hot water — burn- 
ing, boiling hot — to wash them clean. This red stain will not 
come off. Oh, take it away !" 

And, with a violent scream, she flung her hands as far as she 
could from her. 

“Floy," said Lord Darner, “you have over-excited yourself, 
darling. You have made yourself quite ill. There is nothing 
the matter with your hands." 

But the burning eyes that looked at him had not the faintest 
gleam of recognition in their beautiful, troubled depths. 

“Not all the perfumes of Arabia," she muttered, “could 
cleanse them ; not all the water that ever flowed in oceans or 
seas could wash it away. Red and warm — oh, my Heaven ! " 

As he listened to these words, Lord Darner’s face grew ghastly 
white. 


310 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“What terrible idea has taken hold of her?’' he said. 

“The maid told us very suddenly about the murder,” said 
Hope, “and the very idea of it seems fatal to her.” 

“I will give Lady Darner a strong sedative,” said the doctor, 
“one that will quiet her nerves, and reduce this fever of the 
brain.” 

“ Hope, "cried Lord Darner, “for Heaven’s sake, do something. 
I cannot bear this.” 

For his wife had taken up the quilt again, and was rubbing 
the white hands with her whole strength. 

“ Red and warm — oh, so horrible ! ” she muttered ; “and all 
the water of all the seas will not wash it away. ’' 

Hope went to her, and, with gentle force, folded the white 
hands ; but, the moment she released them, they returned to 
their monotonous task, and Lord Darner, unable to bear the 
sight, abruptly quitted the room. 


CHAPTER LIV. 

MONSIEUR DUPRE. 

Lord Darner was in his study alone, looking more wretched 
and unhappy than he had perhaps ever done before. 

Twenty-four hours had elapsed since the murder, and the last 
of the disappointed guests had long since left Avonwold. Ver- 
ner Elster had not returned with the bereaved mother he had 
gone to fetch. 

Lady Darner was better; the fever and delirium that had 
threatened her had disappeared by the effect of powerful sedat- 
ives, and my lady was only too thankful to leave her room. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


311' 

fever-haunted by wretched dreams, and go to some more cheer- 
ful apartment. 

Every one noticed the dreadful change in her ; she looked 
ten years older; the brilliant bloom had faded from the exqui- 
site face, one could even have fancied the sheen on the golden- 
brown hair less bright. 

Hope Charteris had not left her room; the courage and 
strength that had supported her during all these long years had 
failed her. Hope lay prostrate, unable to rise. She said to 
hersejf, resignedly : 

“Perhaps it is better so.” 

She could hardly have seen Florence, and have kept her own 
counsel. 

It was a dull and gloomy household that day. Rose, who 
had felt so deeply grieved for Verner, wandered through the 
grounds disconsolately ; and Lord St. Albans, who missed the 
companionship of the gifted young poet, went over to console 
her. Perhaps for those two the gloom was not so great. 

Lord Darner sat alone. Sergeant Ayrton had sent to request 
an interview with him, saying that it was on very important 
business; and the master of Avon wold did not feel very happy. 

What was the shadow lying over his house? what was the 
dark cloud hovering closer and closer, making the sunshine 
dark, making the atmosphere of his home such as he never re- 
membered it before? 

Then entered Sergeant Ayrton, whose keen eyes noted the 
downcast face and depressed manner ; he formed his own con- 
clusions. 

“You wanted me. Sergeant Ayrton,” he said, pointing to a 
chair. 

“Yes, my lord, I wished to ask your consent to certain ar- 
rangements which, I think, in the cause of justice ought to be 
made. ” 

“I have given you carte blanche,'* said Lord Darner, hastily. 
“You can do as you like.” 


312 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“But this will interfere with your lordship’s establishment, so 
I thought it necess?ry to mention it. These kind of cases are 
always unpleasant, the more so when they cause domestic disar- 
rangement. ” 

“What can this have to do with my domestic affairs in- 
quired Lord Darner, and there was a slight ring of impatience 
in his voice. 

“I fear a great deal. I musk ask your lordship not to feel 
annoyed. I am only doing what I believe to be my duty. ” 

“Of coure, you are simply asked to do that.” 

“ It is now twenty-four hours since the murder, and I have 
never relaxed for one moment in my endeavors to find out by 
whom it was done. Certain conclusions lead me to believe that 
it was the work of some one in the house — not out of it. ” 

“That is quite impossible,” said Lord Darner. “The un- 
fortunate young man was only most distantly known to us. He 
visited my house, I think, three times, in London. Few, if 
any, of the servants here have ever seen him. What interest 
could any of them have in his death ?” 

“That is what I have to find out. I hope your lordship will 
not be vexed at the question, but do you think he had been 
flirting or trifling with any of the maids?” 

“Nothing of the kind,” said Lord Darner, abruptly. “How 
could he? He was never at Avonwold in his life.” 

“You think not, my lord ; the master of a house is often the 
last to know of what goes on in it. ” 

“I can answer for my servants being what they should be,” 
said Lord Darner. “Still, tell me what you wish to do, ser- 
geant, and it shall be done.” 

“I think, my lord, that at once, and' before any more time 
‘is lost — before what proofs may exist can be destroyed — that a 
private detective should be stationed in the house to endeavor to 
solve the mystery, while I pursue inquiries out of doors.” 

“You really think that is necessary?” said Lord Darner, with 
an air of deep annoyance. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


313 

“Unless I had felt quite sure of it, my lord, I should not 
have suggested it.” 

‘ ‘ Then do as you wish — do what is necessary, ” said his lord- 
ship, wearily. “It will be veiy unpleasant, but that, of course, 
we cannot help.” 

“It will not be so bad,” said Sergeant Ayrton. “I know a 
detective who is really a gentleman in his way. Monsieur Du- 
pre ; he belongs to Scotland Yard, and when anything unplea- 
sant happens in a family, like this, he is invariably selected for 
the business.” 

“Do as you will,” said Lord Darner. 

“I only awaited your lordship’s consent,” said Sergeant Ayr- 
ton. ‘ ‘ I thought of sending a telegram for him at once. It 
will be better for his errand here to be kept quite private ; of 
course, if it were known, the ends of justice would be defeated. 
He should be introduced into the house as an artist for taking 
notes of the pictures, or something of that kind.” 

“Manage it as you will,” was the reply. “I detest the idea 
of having a detective brought into the very heart of my home. 
Such things are not pleasant for English gentlemen; but if 
justice demands it, let it be done.” 

“Then I will make arrangements at once,” said Sergeant 
Ayrton, rising. 

If any one had looked at the expression of his face as he said 
the words, they would have read profoundest pity there. 

The result of that conversation was, that in less than an hour 
it was known all over the house that a room was to be prepared 
for Monsieur Dupre, a gentleman who was coming to attend to 
the pictures. 

In less than six hours Monsieur Dupre was installed in his 
room. He was met at the railway station by Sergeant Ayrton, 
and the two had a long conversation. During the course of it, 
the sergeant drew from his pocket a bracelet wrapped in paper, 
on which there was a spot of blood, and rust from the dewy 
grass. 


314 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


“Depend upon it/’ said the sergeant, “whatever mystery lies 
beyond, that we are on the track. ” 

“What kind of woman is she.?” asked monsieur. 

“Very beautiful — very proud and stately ; about the last you 
would imagine could be mixed up in anything of the kind.” 

“ Older or younger than the murdered man.?” asked mon- 
sieur. 

' ‘ Older, by fifteen or seventeen years, ” was the reply, and 
then Monsieur Dupre asked no more questions. 

He very soon became quite popular in the household. He 
paid such delightful compliments to the maids, that they were 
all in ecstasies. If he had a favorite, it was most certainly 
Therese, my lady’s maid. 

He followed her like a shadow, he complimented her, flat- 
tered her, professed the most undying devotion for her. 

“I have been told,” he said to her on the day following his 
arrival, “that in Lady Darner’s own room there is a superb Cor- 
reggio ” 

‘ ‘ What is a Correggio ?” inquired pretty, coquetish Therese, 
who paid more attention to her chignon than to her mind. 

“A certain kind of picture,” he replied, “and I am consid- 
ered quite a judge. The next time her ladyship goes out, I 
should like to look at it — that is, of course, if you are permit- 
ted to show such treasures.” 

Therese tossed her head coquettishly. 

“I know now which picture you mean,” she said. “Every 
one who comes to Avonwold looks at that.” 

“Then you will not be less kind to me than to the rest of 
the world.?” he said, gallantly ; and the pretty maid assured him 
that if anything she would be rather kinder. 

The opportunity he had been seeking for came that evening. 
Lady Darner looked so ill and so unlike herself, that her hus- 
band insisted on taking her out for a drive. 

In vain she remonstrated. 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 * SECRET. 315 

“You mus/ come, Florence,” he said. “The fresh, sweet 
air will blow away the remembrance of these horrors.” 

And, dreading to excite wonder or remark by persisting in 
her refusal, she went. 

“You have had such a narrow escape from a severe illness,” 
he said, “that I must be doubly careful of you. Dr. Curtiss 
says he never saw any one so near brain fever. ” 

And a remembrance of what she had imagined in those few 
hours of delirium made him shudder. 

“My lady is gone out for a drive. Monsieur Dupre,” said 
Therese; “if you would like to see the picture, you have a 
good opportunity.” 

He did not care to seem too eager, but spent a few minutes 
in a most pleasant conversation with the maid ; then she took 
him into the sumptuous dressing-room, where the Correggio 
hung. 

“That is the picture,” she said; and Monsieur Dupre stood 
before it in an attitude that betokened rapturous delight. 

To one so quick-witted it was but the work of a moment to 
invent some errand for the gratified Therese. He asked her to 
fetch a certain book from his room, knowing the search would 
detain her. 

No sooner had she gone than he hastily fastened the door and 
began his search ; the jewel case, the marvelous treasures of 
silk, satin, and velvet, the wondrous ornaments, the luxuries 
that abounded in that sumptuous room, were all rapidly over- 
looked. He found nothing. 

Then his eyes fell upon the wardrobe, and he opened it 
hastily. 

Something at last. 

Twisted tightly together, and thrown into a corner, was the 
pearl-gray satin dress. He opened it hastily, and saw the fatal 
stains upon it. 

It was but the work of a moment to relock the wardrobe with 


3i6 


LAD Y DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


his own false keys, and to hasten away with the last and most 
cruel evidence of all. 

When Therese returned he still stood before the picture, 
though one wiser than herself might have noted a flush on his 
cheek and a sparkle in his eye, like that of a blood-hound on 
the true scent at last. 

“ I cannot find the book,” she said, impatiently. I do not 
believe it is there. ” 

“You are all kindness,” he said. “ Never mind it. There 
is so much to study in this picture that, with your good per- 
mission, I shall come again. ” 

Half an hour later on, he stood in earnest debate with Ser- 
geant Ayrton, and before them on the table lay the gold brace- 
let, the scrap of paper taken from the dead man’s purse, and 
the pearl-gray satin dress. 

“We only want the weapon now, and then we should have 
evidence complete,” said Monsieur Dupre. 

“But where is the motive.?” said the sergeant. “What could 
it be?” 

“That need not concern us. There are stranger things in 
the lives of these ladies of fashion than you or I dream of, with 
all our philosophy. The motive will come to light, depend 
upon it.” 

“lam soriy for it,” said the sergeant; “there is no family 
in our county stands so high as the Darners of AvonwcM.” " 

“ Higher families have had their troubles,” was the philo- 
sophical reply, and so the conversation ended. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET, 


3^7 


CHAPTER LV. 

SORROW AT CROSTON. 

On this July day, when news so terrible was coming to her, 
Jane Elster sat sewing before the cottage door. The garden was 
in full beauty, yet all the beauty and rich odors around her gave 
little brightness to her face. 

The widow’s heart was heavy ; she was in sore distress over 
Rob. His conduct for many months past had puzzled her. 
He had suddenly left home some days since, without telling her 
one word as to where he was going, or what he intended do- 
ing ; and in putting his room right, his mother had seen enough 
to frighten her. 

Where had he found money to buy so many things — clothes, 
.jewelry, everything that he wanted .? He had done no work, he 
had no opportunity of making money, that she knew of — his 
time was spent in amusements. What had come over him, 
this only and idolized son of hers.? 

That he had fulfilled his threat and made out her secret, Jane 
Elster never for one moment imagined ; lately he had ceased to 
speak of it, and she had begun to hope that he had forgotten 
it. 

Her thoughts were sad and heavy as she stitched away at her 
work, and then the sound of a footstep far down in the garden 
path attracted her; she raised her head and saw Verner in the 
distance. 

He came up to her hastily, and greeted her in his usual kind, 
affectionate manner. 

“My dear, this is very sudden,” she said, then she saw how 
grave and agitated he looked. “Are you ill, Verner.?" she 
asked anxiously. “Have you come home to rest? ’ 


3i8 


LAD Y DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


“lam not ill/’ was the evasive reply, “but I come to talk to 
you about Rob. Did you know he had an idea of coming over 
to Avonwold ?” 

“ I do not even know where the place is, ” she replied. ‘ ‘ I 
thought you lived at Hati m Court.” 

“I do, and one of the estates quite near to it is Avonwold, 
the seat of the Darners. ” 

Jane shook her head. 

“ I do not know either names, Vemer.” 

“ He came to Avonwold yesterday, and he has met with an 
accident there. ” 

She started from her chair with a white face and trembling 
hands. 

“An accident? Oh, my son! — my boy! I must go to 
him.” 

“I came to fetch you,” he continued ; “Lord Darner wished 
you to come at once.” 

“Is he ill? Is 'he in danger?” she cried. “Oh, my son — 
my only son !” 

“Why, mother,” he cried, “you must not so far forget me ; 
he is not your only son — I am here to love you and take care of 
you.” 

But she only looked at him with wild eyes, and moaned for 
her only son. 

Verner was inexpressibly pained ; he saw that she was well- 
nigh distraught. 

“ Mother, I want you to try and help me to find out what 
took poor Rob to Avonwold ; so much depends on it.” 

“ I cannot,” replied Jane, wringing her hands. “ I do not 
know.” 

“When he came to Lo»bon to see me,” continued Verner, 
“he went two or three times to visit the Darners. They were 
very kind to him ; still, they do not seem to know what took 
him there — to Avonwold.” 

“I heard him speak of some grand people in London who 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 319 

were very kind to him,” said Jane; “but I -never heard the 
names.” 

‘ ‘ Lord and Lady Darner are friends of the Dysarts ; they were 
kind to him; Miss Charteris, too.” 

Then he looked up in amaze, ft^j^ she stood wringing her 
hands, repeating that name after him in a voice that he never 
forgot. 

“Miss Charteris! Oh I Verner, do not say it — do not tell 
me she is there. ” 

“Of course she is there,” he replied. “Avonwold is her 
home. She lives there with her sister. ” 

“Her sister!” repeated Jane^ faintly. “Oh! Verner, tell 
me, is she — that sister — fair of ^?ce, with eyes like spring violets, 
and golden-brown hair ?” 

“Yes, that is Lady Darner.” 

‘ ‘ Then they have killed my Rob ! — my boy ! — my son ! 
They have killed him !” 

She stood for a few minutes like one overwhelmed with hor- 
ror ; then she turned to him, and laid both hands on his shoul- 
ders. She looked into his face. 

“And have you seen — do you know this Lady Darner?” she 
asked. 

“Yes; I see her every day,” he replied. 

Jane Elster looked at him. 

“Oh, my God !” she said, “how wonderful are Thy ways.” 

He looked at her, uncertain what she meant. 


320 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET. 


CHAPTER LVI. 

A MOTHER BEREAVED. 

“My dearest mother," said Verner, “I do not understand 
you. The Darners have been very kind to me and to Rob. 
Why do you speak so strangely of them ?" 

‘ ‘ Have you seen her day after day, spoken to her, talked to 
her, listened to her, yet do not know ?" she cried. 

“Know what, mother? You speak in riddles." 

“How should he know?" she said, rather to herself than 
him ; ‘ ‘ how should he know ? It is a secret, bound by an 
oath." 

As Verner had never had the least idea of anything wrong — 
of any secret or mystery — he was at a loss to understand. It 
seemed to him they were wasting time. 

“Tell me," she cried, suddenly, “what is wrong with my 
boy?" 

“He came to Avonwold, it is supposed, last night, and he 
has been shot I" 

“Heaven !” cried the poor mother, clasping her hands over 
her heart. “Shot ! — oh, Verner ! — not dead ? — he is not dead, 
my bonnie, handsome Rob ?" 

She flung herself frantically on her knees before him. 

“You must try and bear it, mother. He is no longer living 
— the shot killed him in one moment." 

There came to her no merciful insensibility, such as comes to 
some. 

“ My only son ! my handsome boy ! my bonnie Rob !" 

Already, after the manner of women, she had completely for- 
gotten his faults, and remembered only how she loved him. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


321 


He cannot be dead she cried. “ He was my only one, 
and Heaven would not let him die without one word from me.” 

‘‘Mother, you distress me ; he was not your only son ; I love 
you, too; you forget me.” 

She looked at him wdth the dazed, bewildered glance of one 
who does not fully comprehend. 

‘ ‘ He is dead — shot dead ! ” 

Then she stood up, fierce and erect, before him. 

“You say he was shot dead at the very door of the house 
where she, Hope Charteris, lived? Take me to her, Verner; 
never mind why. Take me to her. He has found out the se- 
cret, and she has killed him.” 

Verner thought her great sorrow had affected her reason. 

“Miss Charteris killed him ? Why, mother, she is so gentle, 
so tender of heart, she would not kill even a worm — she would 
not trample on one. ” 

“You are sure to take their part,” she cried, turning ifom 
him; “it is but natural. I know, now, what took him to 
Avonwold, and 1 tell you she has compassed his death. Take 
me to her, Verner ; let me meet her face to face.” 

There was something so extraordinary in all this that Verner 
began to suspect a mystery. 

Could there have been any secret between his brother Rob 
and Miss Charteris? He did not know what to think. He 
could only’ remember that time "v^as flying, and they must be 
gone. 

It was evening when they reached Avonleigh. 

“Let me see my son first,” cried Jane Elster, “^nd when 
I have looked at his dead face, I shall know best what to say to 
herr 

Despite all remonstrances, Verner made her stay to take some 
refreshment at Avonleigh. He gave up the idea when he saw 
how utterly unable she was to comply with his wishes. 

‘ ‘ If you force me to eat or drink, I shall die, ” she said ; “ ‘ take 
me to my son. ” 


322 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


They reached the keeper’s cottage at last. The keeper’s wife 
made the poor, bereaved mother welcome. 

She would not let her go at once to the room where the dead 
man lay. Jane’s only desire was to lie down by his side, and 
die with him. 

“ I know what trouble is,” said the keeper’s wife. “You shall 
not go in there until you have drank a cup of tea. My hus- 
band is gone into the woods. I will get something ready for 
you at once.” 

She forced the weeping mother to sit down, and then, with 
her own active, kindly hands, made the tea. 

“I have lost children of my own,” she said. “I know 
what it is. You may thank Heaven you have such a good son 
left.” 

And the keeper’s wife glanced kindly at Verner ; but Jane 
turned from him with a shudder that pained him inexpressi- 
bly. 

At that moment the two detectives. Sergeant Ayrton, and 
M. Dupre entered the cottage. In a whisper they were in- 
formed who the silent woman was. 

“The mother of the mudered man!” and they looked at 
each other, inwardly thinking nothing could have been more 
opportune than this meeting. 

“Will you let me see my son, now.?” asked Jane Elster ; 
and something in the anguish of her voice thrilled every heart. 

“I will go with you, mother,” said Verner; but she waved 
him away. 

“Noy” she replied ; “I will go to my dead alone.” 

They saw her open the door and close it again ; they heard 
the wild cries of grief, the agony, the despair, the tender words 
she lavished upon him, the murmured tones, and then there 
was a long silence. 

They looked uneasily at each other. 

‘ ‘ She takes it hardly, ” said Sergeant Ayrton, who was nat- 
urally a kind-hearted man. 


LADY DA MED SECRET. 


'‘It is not easy to watch one’s child grow from a babe to a 
man, then lose him, '’ said the keeper’s wife. 

“She has comfort left,” said M. Dupre; then he looked up 
in wonder. 

Jane Elster was standing before them, her face deadly pale, 
her eyes full of fire. 

“You speak falsely !” she said ; “I have no comfort — none. 
Verner, go to the place you call Avonwold, and tell Hope 
Charteris I am waiting for her by the side of my dead son. Bid 
her come to me at once, and answer for what is done.” 

There was such sublimity of sorrow in her face, such dignity 
in her voice and attitude, that they looked at each other, uncer- 
what to do or say. 

Then, while they looked at her, the tall figure swayed to and 
fro, and fell a senseless heap on the ground. 

“ There is an end to her trouble for a time,” said the kindly 
woman, w'ho ran to her assistance. 

They raised her and laid her on the little couch, while the 
two detectives looked at each other. 

“That is my lady’s sister,” said M. Dupre. “I cannot see 
right. How is she mixed up with it? We must find out.” 

Verner started at once in search of Miss Charteris. 


CHAPTER EVIL 

THE ACCUSATION. 

In all Verner Elster ’s life, he had never been so puzzled as 
during that walk from the keeper’s cottage to Avonwold. 

Why should his mother accuse Hope Charteris of poor Rob’s 


324 


LADV DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


murder? Miss Charteris, who was his ideal of all that was 
stately, kind, comely, and pleasant in woman ; Miss Charteris, 
whom he did not believe had ever said an unkind word, or done 
an unkind action in all her life. 

What did his mother mean by that vehement cry that Rob 
was her only son? If that were true, who was he ? 

He reached Avonwold, and found the whole house in gloom. 
He asked for the butler, and waited some minutes before that 
important personage could find time to attend to him. 

“We have had nothing but misfortunes, Mr. Elster. In con- 
sequence of this dreadful accident the fete was given up. My 
lady, too, was startled, and threatened with a serious illness ; 
but it has passed away, we hope.” 

“Do you think,” asked Verner, “that I could see Miss 
Charteris ?” 

“She has been in her room all day,” he replied, dubiously; 
‘ ‘ I cannot say. ” 

“Will you ask one of the maids to take up a note for me .? — 
and I will wait for the answer. ” 

““Yes, certainly, I can do that,” replied the butler. 

And in less than three minutes, Verner was supplied with pen, 
ink, and paper. His note was very brief : 

“Dear Miss Charteris — 

“ My mother, Mrs. Elster, is at the keeper’s cottage. She is 
very ill — half crazed with grief — and cries so incessantly for you, 
that I thought it best to comply with her request, and come for 
you. Shall I wait to walk back with you, or are you not well 
enough to come ?” 

“Ask that this may be given at once to Miss Charteris, and 
tell her I await the answer,” he said. 

Nor was the answer long delayed. A few words, in pencil, 
from Miss Charteris said : 

“ Wait for me ; I will go at once.” 

In ten minutes more Hope Charteris, dressed in a dark cloak 
and bonnet, with a thick vail, was in the room. 


LADV DAMER^S SECRET. 


325 


Verner sprang to her side. 

“Dear Miss Charteris,” he said, “I am so grieved, so sorry 
to disturb you. Can I do anything to help you T 

“No,” she replied, and in the tone of her voice he detected 
anguish too deep for words. 

The hand she laid in his trembled, and was cold as death. 
She turned to the butler with the air of quiet dignity that never 
deserted her. 

“ I do not wish my absence from Avonwold to be known. I 
am going to the keeper’s cottage. Should I be late, will you 
sit up for me ?” 

The butler replied by the most solemn and stately of bows. 
The servants at Avonwold had the deepest respect for Miss 
Charteris. Perhaps, of the two, they preferred her to their 
stately, beautiful mistress. 

Then, without another word. Miss Charteris and Verner El- 
ster went out. 

The last gleam of color had died from the evening skies, the 
sweetest and most fragrant silence reigned around. They walked 
through the woods, in the starlight, for some time, without the 
exchange of a word. 

Then Hope, turning round, laid one hand on Verner’s arm. 

“Verner,” she asked, “has she told you anything ? — do you 
know 

“I know nothing,” he replied, “except that there is some 
mystery in which my mother, poor Rob, and you. Miss Char^ 
teris, are concerned. I have no idea what it is. Do not dis- 
tress yourself by telling me. Only let me be of use to you, 
that is all I want.” 

“I will not tell you,” she replied. “God, in his mercy, 
may leave it in our power to keep our secret longer. I pray 
that it may be so. ” 

And then she wept silently, hopelessly, helplessly until the 
cottage was reached. Every deep-drawn sob seemed to pierce 
the kindly heart near her. 


326 


LAD V DAMED SECRE T. 


Suddenly, as the light from the casement shone on them, she 
turned to him and said : 

“ Verner Elster, can you, can any one, tell me why one per- 
son always suffers for another’s sins ?” 

“1 cannot,” he replied. “God holds all secrets in the hol- 
low of His hand ; this seems to bi one of the greatest. ” 

Then they entered the cottage, and found the keeper’s wife 
with the two detectives. 

Miss Charteris looked uneasily at them as she entered. The 
true character of M. Dupre was known to her, and she would 
have preferred his being anywhere rather than in hearing of 
Jane Elster’s wild cries. 

The two stood silent, looking at each other — perhaps meas- 
uring each other’s strength, each determined to have their own 
way. 

“Are you sure, Monsieur Dupre, that your presence is not 
needed at the hall ?’’ asked Miss Charteris. 

“I am here, madam, by his lordship’s orders.” 

“Suppose I release you from them, and give others in their 
place r 

“ Whatever pain it cost me,” was the gallant reply, “I should 
be compelled to refuse them.” 

Sergeant Ayrton looked on in quiet amaze at this little ex- 
/:hange of civilities. He would hardly have dared to resist a 
command given by Miss Charteris. 

“ I will see your mother at once,” said Hope, turning to the 
young man. 

“She will not leave the room where her son is,” interposed 
the keeper’s wife. 

“Then I will go to her there,” said Miss Charteris. 

She opened the door and went in alone. At first she barely 
recognized the woman who knelt there with white, haggard face 
and burning §yes. The room was but partially lighted, and 
there was something ghastly in the figure that lay so still beneath 
the white sheet. 


LADY DAMER SECRET. 327 

Then Jane Elster started up and stood before her, confront- 
ing her. 

“You have come,” she said. “Oh, Miss Charteris, what 
have I done to you that this evil has been wrought to me ?” 

She looked so wild in her despair that Hope went to her and 
laid one hand gently on her. * 

Jane Elster flung it away, as though the touch had been 
poison and death. 

“Do not touch me !” she cried. “No more of those false, 
cozening words, Miss Charteris. You have spoken the iast to 
me ! I have been true, faithful, and devoted to you as slave to 
her mistress. Look at the return you have made me I” 

“Surely, Mrs. Elster, you cannot be so utterly mad as to be- 
lieve that I had any hand in your son’s death.” 

“ Of course you had. If you have not shot him yourself, you 
have compassed his death !” 

“ No, no !” cried Hope ; “do not let such an idea take hold 
of you. Why should I — poor boy ! — why should I have in- 
jured him ?” 

“Because he knew your secret,” she replied. 

And Hope Charteris, as she heard the words, grew white as 
the dead before her. 

“ He knew your secret, and you have lured him here to slay 
him, that it should be kept safely. You are one of those th rice- 
accursed aristocrats who consider a human life but a trifle when 
balanced against fair name. ” 

“Jane Elster, I swear to you, before God, that I never knew 
your son was coming here. I am innocent as you yourself of 
all hand in his death.” 

“Ido not believe it !” cried Jane Elster, wildly; “no one 
else living had an interest in his death but you !” 

“I had none,” she replied. “True, as you surmise, he had 
discovered my secret. Jane, but I have not harmed him for it. I 
have done nothing worse than pay him well.” 

“ It is you !” cried the unhappy mother. “Oh, Miss Char- 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


328 

teris ! did I deserve it ? You came to me in your shame and 
your sorrow, and I helped you well. For twenty years I have 
worked for, and brought up the child you intrusted to me, in 
health, strength, and honesty. 1 have been as his own mother 
to him ; and this, this is the return you make to me. I have 
saved yours — you have destroyed mine ! Oh, my God ! hear 
me — she has destroyed him, my only child !” 

There was a stir in the outer room, and. Hope Charteris knew 
that every word was overheard. 

“It is useless for me to speak, Jane, while you continue these 
wild accusations. In time you will know how false they are. 
Because you have been so true and so devoted to me, I pardon 
you. If I can do anything to help you in discovering who really 
injured your poor boy, I will do so. It was not I, nor do I 
know anything of it. ” 

She only murmured some wild words about the base return 
her kindness had met with, and how they had murdered her 
child in return for what she had done for them, and Hope's 
strong heart beat high with fear when she remembered who was 
listening on the other side. She saw that her staying any longer 
was useless. . Jane Elster was too crazed with grief to under- 
stand. 

“Iwill come back to you, Jane,’ she said, gently, “when 
you are calmer.* Tcanjiot reason with you now.” 

“You %hall not^'bribe me!” cried the unhappy mother. 
“You will speak kilidly to me — ^you will off^r me more money. 
I will take neither, kindness nor gold I ^ I will tell the truth, 
the shamefuUruth for which yoU have slain my only son 

She made a step irradvance, as though she would have gone 
nearer to Miss Charteris j then, with a cry that sounded through 
the house, Jane "Elster fell bn the floor. The secret was to be 
kept to her, for she had passed i^ito the dark dream-land of de- 
lirium and oblivion. ** * . * , 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


329 


CHAPTER LVIII. 

THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 

Miss Charteiis opened the door and called for assistance. The 
keeper’s wife looked in deepest pity at the rigid face. 

“I thought it would end so,” she said; ‘‘her cries have 
made my heart ache.” 

They carried the unhappy woman into another room, and laid 
her on a bed. 

“You must send for a doctor at once,” said Miss Charteris; 
“she will be dangerously ill.” 

She spoke kindly and gently, yet she could not help read- 
ing the dislike and aversion in the comely face of the keeper’s 
wife. 

* ‘ She has overheard it, ” said Hope to herself. ‘ ‘ Dear Heaven ! 
how will it end ?” 

She saw the two detectives looking keenly at her, and shud- 
dered under the bland smile of M. Dupre. 

“A blood-hound on the track,” she thought. 

“Where is Mr. Elster?” she asked; and Sergeant Ayrton, 
going to the half-open door, called him in. 

“Why did you leave the house, Verner she said; “had 
you no curiosity to learn why 1 was wanted .?” 

“I went because I saw you desired your interview with my 
mother to be held sacred,” he replied, with a look of angry in- 
dignation at the detectives. 

“Your mother has taken a wrong and most mistaken idea 
into her mind ; one that will work unutterable woe,” she said ; 
“but I cannot convince her. I must wait until the first wild 
transport of grief is over. Verner, do not return with me ; I 
can find my way through the woods alone. I know that Lord 


33 ^ 


LAD y DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


Darner will desire every care and attention to be paid to Mrs. 
Elster ; go to Avonleigh and bring a doctor. I will send one 
of the servants from the hall to attend to her.” 

‘‘ Have you no fear that she may say things you would rather 
they did not hear Sooner than you should be distressed, 
Miss Charteris, I would stay and help to nurse her myself. ” 

She looked at him gratefully. 

“You are a true gentleman,” she said. “ I have heard that 
when prairie grass begins to burn, none can stop the flames. 
Nothing, it seems to me, Verner, can arrest the course of events. 
They must lead us where Heaven wills. Mrs. Elster thinks I 
caused Rob’s death.” 

“I know, dear Miss Charteris, she is beside herself with grief, 
or she would not say so ; you, who are kind even to the little 
birds ! ” 

She bent her head, and whispered to him. 

“Verner, I am afraid of those two men — they mean mis- 
chief. There is something in that Frenchman’s face that fright- 
ens me. ” 

He tried to console her, to find soothing, loving words that 
would bring comfort to her ; but they parted without one smile 
or one more cheerful look from her. 

She had said that she should not be frightened to cross the 
woods alone, but now a thousand fears beset her. She remem- 
bered that terrible dream of her sister’s — the dream in which 
every leaf on the forest trees bore, in letters of fire, the words : 

‘ ‘ Lady Darner’s Secret. ' 

Was it coming at last— the revelation that had hung so many 
years like a cloud over her .? Was the beloved sister, for whom 
she had sacrificed more than life itself, to be hurled down at 
last ? Was the proud, beautiful head, every hair of which was 
dear to her, to be humbled to the dust? Was the husband, 
who loved and trusted her, to be ashamed of his trust ? Were 
the children, who honored her, to blush that they called her 
mother ? 


LAD Y DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 


331 


“Oh, Floy ! Floy, my darling ! I did my best to save your 
life ; perhaps it would have been better had you died ! My sis- 
ter ! my little child-sister 

The silence of night was around her ; there was a deep hush 
on the trees ; the little birds were all asleep. It was so great a 
luxury to weep as she would, to fear no listening ears ; she 
wept aloud, with deep-drawn, bitter sobs, her only cry : 

“Oh, my sister ! my child-sister, Floy !” 

She did not hear footsteps near her, or the breaking of small 
branches. 

She cried out with fear as a hand was laid upon her arm, and 
a hoarse voice cried : 

“Stop! I want to speak to you. Stop!” 

Hope Charteris stood quite still. Before her she saw a tall 
figure, wrapped from head to foot in a dark cloak. 

“You have just come from the cottage where he lies dead ?” 
said the stranger. 

And Hope, too much startled for words, nodded assent. 

“Do they know yet who killed him .? ’ continued the strange, 
hoarse voice. 

“No,” said Miss Charteris, “ not yet.” 

“ But they will know. Listen. Two nights ago he stood at 
that coppice gate, and he was talking to a beautiful woman, 
dressed in shining satins and rich jewels ; she had golden-brown 
hair, and a face — ah, me ! — so fair. Who was it killed him } 
Ask her !” 

And, with a loud, mocking laugh, the stranger stepped aside. 

“You ask her” she repeated ; she knows why he died.” 

The next moment she had vanished, and, but for the sound 
of retreating footsteps, Hope Charteris would have fancied it all 
a dream. 

“Golden-brown hair, and a lovely face? It was Floy. Oh, 
my God ! what can it mean ? I thought he had come to Avon- 
wold after me.- It was to see her. What did she say ? Who 
killed him ? I must be going mad !” 


332 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRET. 


CHAPTER LIX, 

WILLFUL MURDER. 

It is a bright, sunshiny morning, with shining dew-drops 
pearling each leaf and tree. Against the coppice gate, where 
the deed was done, stood the two detectives. They w'ere talk- 
ing earnestly, and on Sergeant Ayrton’s face there was an ex- 
pression not only of deep anxiety, but of pain. M. Dupre, on 
the contrar}', wore a triumphant expression. 

‘‘Mistake!” he saidj contemptuously; “nonsense, Ayrton, 
there is no mistake. It is no use being weak over it ; the deed 
was done, and it must be punished. There w'ould be an end 
to all justice if a woman might sin with impunity because she 
has a beautiful face. It is beautiful, I grant you — the fairest I 
have ever seen.” 

“It is not of her I think altogether, ” was the sorrowful reply. 
“The Darners of Avonwold have been the first in the country 
as long as I can remeniber. It will kill him — he is so fond of 
her, so proud of her.” 

But no pathetic words of his could take the expression of tri- 
umph from the Frenchman’s face. 

“You have too much romance for your profession, sergeant,” 
he said. “If she were a plain, ordinary, elderly woman, say a 
butcher’s wife, for instance, you would do your duty without 
the least particle of remorse.” 

‘ ‘ I shall do my duty now, ” was the gloomy reply ; ‘ ‘ but I 
would rather cut off my right hand. Looking over all we 
know, is there no hope that we are wrong.?” 

“Not the least. The only thing that prevented me from 
speaking yesterday was, I was at a loss for motive ; now I see 
the motive, and the whole tragedy lies bare before me.” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


333 


^‘You mean to tell Lord Darner to-day?” 

“This very morning. You see, Ayrton, there is a great dif- 
ference between us ; you live on the spot ; your time is your 
own ; I have a very important inquiry on hand in Scotland, and 
every hour is of importance to me. 1 have fathomed the mys- 
tery, why further delay? I may lose all scent of the Scotch 
business by staying here ; nothing, I say, can be plainer. It is 
evident that this Miss Charteris had a son, and her sister. Lady 
Darner, knows her secret ; whether this young man presumed 
upon his knowledge, I cannot say — I should imagine he did. 

I seldom find even my least impressions wrong, ” 

And Monsieur Dupre drew himself up to his full height, with 
an expression of gratified vanity none but a Frenchman could 
assume. 

Then they walked down the grove of limes, the limes that 
had shivered, trembled, and grown burning red in the setting 
«un on the night when Florence, Lady Darner, had entered 
Avonwold as a bride. The brightness and beauty of the morn- 
ing seemed to cheer and exhilara^ the Frenchman ; Sergeant 
Ayrton, on the contrary, became more and more depressed. 

They entered the Hall together. 

“There is no need to keep up any mystery over me,” said 
M. Dupre ; “my business here will in all probability be known 
by noon. ” 

They were shown into Lord Darner’s study, where M. Dupre 
fidgeted from chair to chair. Sergeant Ayiton evidently went 
through a long battle with himself. 

“I cannot,” he thought; “it may be unmanly, unbusiness- 
like, but I cannot, first of all, hunt her down in cold blood, 
then stand quietly by while she is trapped. Every one else 
knows when the web is closing round them, why should not 
she?” 

He made some excuse for leaving the study ; he took from ^ 
his pocket a pencil, and wrote : 


334 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


“My Lady: — A friend sends you this warning. Leave 
Avonwold at once ; by noon it will be too late. ” 

He carefully sealed the paper, and looking out for one of 
the maids, said to her : 

“I have answered the door, as none of your men seem able 
to do their work to-day ; a stranger has brought this for Lady 
Darner. It was to be given to her at once ; take it. Better not 
mention that I received it, or you will get some of the servants 
into trouble.” 

The maid, implicitly believing him, went at once to Lady 
Darner’s room, where the mistress of Avonwold sat, drinking a 
cup of chocolate. 

Lady Darner opened the note, and an expression of angry 
wonder came over her face, as she read. 

“Who brought this.?” she asked. 

“A strange man, my lady, and it was to be given to you 
directly.” 

“Do you not know who it was.?” she asked, impatiently. 

“No, my lady, there was no message, except that it was to 
be given to you at once. ” 

“ ‘Leave Avonwold — it will be too late at noon’ — what non- 
sense, what impertinence. Who dares to write such words to 
me? what have I to fear?” 

Then, when she began to think more calmly, and the flush 
died from her beautiful face, she began to wish for Hope — 
Hope, who had been her comfort and stay in every trouble. 
She rang the bell, and asked where Miss Charteris was; and 
was told that her sister had not yet Ifeft her room. 

“Ask Miss Charteris to come to me before she goes down 
stairs,” she said. “I want her very particularly.” 

In the meantime. Lord Darner had been told that he was 
wanted in his study. During breakfast he had been somewhat 
happier. He had insisted upon his wife remaining in her own 
room, and Rose had talked so cheerfully to him that, almost 
insensibly, his spirits rose. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


335 


‘‘We are under an eclipse, papa,” she said; “but the sun, 
you know, shines more brightly after an eclipse ; so it will be 
with us. We cannot give life to the dead, but we can make the 
poor mother rich and happy ; mamma will get well, and we will 
forget this season of gloom.” 

“Please Heaven it may be so,” said Lord Darner. “I do 
not remember ever to have seen Avonwold under what you call 
an eclipse before. I prefer sunshine, Rose. ” 

“So do I,” she replied, with a little laugh that was like the 
chime of silver bells. 

Then the door opened, and a footman told Lord Darner that 
Monsieur Dupre was waiting for him in the study. A slight 
expression of impatience came over the handsome, patrician 
face as Lord Darner heard the name. 

“I will be there in two minutes,” he said. 

Then, when the servant left the room, he turned to his 
daughter : 

“Oh, Rose,” he said, “my bright, darling Rose, how I wish 
all this dreary business were ended. Avonwold will never be 
the same to me again now that this red stain of murder lies at 
the threshold.” 

But she clasped her tender arms around him, and raised her 
sweet face to him. 

“It will all be over soon, papa, and then how bright the sun- 
shine will be I” 

“Wait here for me. Rose,” said Lord Darner; “I shall want 
you to help me with some papers.” 

He quitted the room with a smile on his face. When he saw 
his daughter again his lips were turned to stone, and smiled no 
more. 

The two men stood up as he entered the study ; and Lord 
Darner first noticed the constrained, rigid, strange expression of 
Sergeant Ayrton’s face. 

“Good-morning,” he said, with the courtesy the Darners al- 


536 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


ways showed to their inferiors. ^ ‘ I hope there is nothing un- 
pleasant that requires my presence.?’’ 

“We have a clew, my lord,” said Monsieur Dupre, “a cer- 
tain clew as to the person who committed the murder. ” 

“Was it a murder.?” asked Lord Darner. "‘lam anxious to 
believe it was either accident or mistake. ” 

“It was neither, my lord,” was the grave reply. “It was, as 
I suspected from the first, a case of willful murder!” 

“And now you have discovered the criminal ?” 

“Yes,” replied the detective, looking strangely at him, “we 
have now discovered who did it, and why it was done.” 

“ It is a long story, my lord,” said Sergeant Ayrton, speaking 
for the first time. 

“Then I will sit down and listen,” replied Lord Darner. 

He took a chair opposite the two detectives, and for some 
minutes a dead, blank silence reigned in the room. 


CHAPTER LX. 

THE BOLT FALLS. 

“You have discovered the criminal, you say?” remarked 
Lord Darner, “then I am sure you deserve the reward.” 

He was not especially anxious to know who it was ; that it 
should be any one in whom he took deep interest seemed to 
him quite improbable. Some poacher or keeper in all proba- 
bility. What was the Frenchman saying in his soft, bland 
voice .? 

“lam sorry to tell your lordship that the criminal is a mem- 
ber of your own household. ” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


337 


His attention was fully aroused then. 

“ I cannot credit it,” he replied, quickly, “for most of my 
servants I would answer as for myself— some of them have lived 
here since they were children ; even those who are fresh comers 
are above all suspicion.” 

There was an awkward pause. Lord Darner looked uneasily 
from one to the other. 

“You have something unpleasant to say tome,” he cried. 

‘ ‘ Have no fear ; what is it ?” 

“None of your servants are suspected, my lord ; the criminal 
is nearer and dearer to you. ” 

“ Have a care !”* he said, angrily. “ There are limits to my 
patience ; you must have limits to your freedom of speech !” 

“I must do my duty, my lord, however painful it may be. 
You “are not the only master of a house living in utter ignor- 
ance of all that goes on under his roof. ” 

‘ ‘ There are no secrets at Avon wold. ” 

“ Pardon me,” interrupted Monsieur Dupre, “there are sev- 
eral.” 

“I defy you to name one!” cried Lord Darner, angrily. 

“My lord, there are passages in the life of Miss Charteris of 
which you are perfectly ignorant ; one of them has brought this 
young man to his death.” 

No words can describe the wonder, the anger and indignant 
pride that flashed in the handsome, patrician face. 

“I forbid you even to utter the names of the ladies of my 
household I” he cried. “You forget yourself. You go out of 
your place. I will not hear it. ” 

“You mus/ hear it from me, and, alas! from others. Have 
patience. Lord Darner. Is it a pleasant ^ask for me to stand 
here and say that to you for which you could slay me.? Others 
might have broken the sad news to you in one-half the time. I 
can understand the keen sensitiveness of a gentleman s feelings, 
and do my work gently. You will be sorry afterward to re- 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


338 

member that you have lost patience with me, for I have studied 
you, my lord.” 

“Then say quickly what you have to say.” 

A horrible fear was beginning to overpower him. What 
could it mean.? Hope Charteris with a secret, and that secret 
in the power of these men ? Dear Heaven ! what was coming 
to Avonwold if this were true? 

“Years ago,” said Monsieur Dupre, and he turned his head 
away lest he should see the pain in the white face, “years ago 
Miss Charteris — who might have many reasons for concealing 
her marriage — had a son.” 

“It is a lie !” cried Lord Darner, “a base, foul lie! If you 
repeat such a slander I will kill you 1 You are speaking of mv 
wife's sister, of Lady Darners sister; have a care I” 

“My lord, it is true! I bring no charge against Miss Char- 
teris. She may have been an honored or an unhappy wife. I 
simply state the fact that she, some twenty years since, had a 
son. Nay, hear me. If you refuse to listen I must cariy my 
story to the highest authorities in the land. ” 

By the greatest effort Lord Darner forced himself to listen ; 
every vein on his forehead grew large, his eyes flamed fire, his 
lips quivered, his hands trembled again with the hot desire of 
flinging the slanderer down and trampling the lie in his throat. 

“This child,” continued the calm, pitiless voice, “she. never 
acknowledged — I know nothing of her reasons. She sent it, or 
took it, or gave it into the charge of a good, simple country 
woman — Jane Elster, of Croston.” 

“Heaven have mercy on me !” cried the bewildered listen- 
er; “Jane Elster, of Croston!” 

“Yes; a woman who had already one son — the young man 
murdered here at your gate three days ago. I cannot tell you 
the details, they must be discovered afterward. I can only in- 
form you that the young man you have always thought to be 
Verner Elster, is in very truth the son of Hope Charteris.” 

“I do not believe you. I refuse to credit one word of what 


LADY DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 339 

you have told me. If an angel from Heaven stood here and 
swore it, I would not believe.” 

“ I am no angel, my lord, but I am an honest man, telling 
you painful truths. Let me continue. From all I can gather 
in a mist of uncertainties, the woman's own son, the murdered 
man, got some inkling of the secret ; he came here evidently to 
make his market out of it. So far your lordship will allow that 
my story runs together, as it were ” 

Never a word spoke the white lips ; the proud, stately head 
was unbent. 

“Now comes the part that presents a difficulty. The young 
man comes here evidently, to my mind, with the intention of , 
making a market of what he has discovered; but instead of see-' 
ing Miss Charteris, from whom he would naturally expect to 
get money, it is Lady Darner whom he sees.” 

The white face grew dark then in livid rage. 

“I refuse to hear that name dragged into such a story. Lady 
Darner is not to be spoken of ” 

“Your pardon. I must speak of her, my lord; would tc 
Heaven I could obey you, and not mention her name. The 
young man came here on the evening of July the 21st, and 
Lady Darner met him at the little gate that leads to the cop- 
pice, at the end of the lime trees.” 

“ It is false !”he cried again, with ghastly fear, clutching wildh 
at his breast. 

“It is true. Nay, my lord, be patient. Even should you 
kill me in your anger, you cannot prevent the story from being 
made public. Rather listen, and see if anything can be done.” 

He sank back nerveless, helpless into the chair that stood 
near him, while the calm, bland voice continued : 

“ Lady Darner and this young man met there; how long the 
interview lasted, I cannot say. He may have been insulting — 
annoying. He may have irritated her until, as women do, she 
forgot everything but vengeance.' He may have heaped most 
foul abuse on the head of the sister whom her ladyship loves 


340 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


and honors. Whatever the provocation, one thing is certain, 
my lord— I wish I could leave the words unsaid — she slew him.* 

Another momeui, and Lord Darner’s hand was on his throat. 
There was a low cry, a gasp, a struggle ; then Sergeant Ayrton 
sprang up to interfere. 

“Would you commit another murder. Lord Darner?” he 
cried ; and, at the sound of the word, the unhappy nobleman 
fell back like one paralyzed. 

“I forgive you,” said M. Dupre. “That which you have 
to hear would drive any man mad. My lord, surely as you and 
I stand here two living men, she slew him ! I can show you 
pi oofs.” 

“ Show them,” he said ; but the voice was so changed and 
hoarse they could hardly recognize it. 

Then M. Dupre slowly produced a bundle from his coat. 
He opened it, and spread the contents before Lord Darner’s 
eyes. 

“This bracelet was found on the spot,” he said, “the morn- 
ing after. You can see the stains of blood upon it.” 

Yes, they were there — foul, rusty stains, that sickened him as 
he looked. 

He remembered how she had left the room with the brace- 
let shining on her arm, and, hiding his face for one brief mo- 
ment, he moaned aloud. 


CHAPTER LXI. 

THE PROOFS. 


Only for one moment ; the shock of seeing those blood- 
stains on the jewel he had given her, was so great ; then her 


LAD Y DA MED ’ 6 ' SECDE 7 . 34 1 

beautiful face, so glorious in its beautiful loveliness, rose before 
him, and he looked up with proud contempt. 

“ Have you nothing,” he asked, “but this? True, my lady 
wore it on that night ; I myself fastened it on her arm. It does 
not follow that she dropped it there. A thief might have car- 
ried it away. Any story is more probable than the one you tell. 
Have you no other proof, I ask ?” 

Then M. Dupre opened the bundle containing the pearl- 
gray satin dress. 

“ This is proof enough,” he said, “ to convince half the men 
in England. On the night of the murder Lady Darner wore 
this dress. ” 

He held it so that the sun shone on the crimson stains ; the 
sleeves, the bodice, the front of the dress were covered with 
them. 

Lord Darner’s eyes grew dark and angry as he gazed. 

“To you, who do not know her, it seems strong. .1, who 
know her well, laugh at it.” 

The brave, chivalrous nature of the man was showin^self 
His loyal love, his earnest faith, his simple, manly devotion, 
rose in her favor at this hour as they had never done before. 

Then from his pocket-book the detective drew the slip of pa- 
per on which, in Rob’s hand, were written the words : 

‘ ‘ Lady Darner’s secret. ” 

Her husband’s eyes grew soft and tender as he looked at the 
name. 

“Even should she have a secret,” he said, “ it is no guilty 
one. As well try to shake my faith in the blue heavens, in the 
mercy of Heaven, as in the loyalty, the truth, and the purity of 
the noble lady whom I call my wife. Will you do me the 
greatest favor that you • can possibly render to me?. Will you 
leave me for one-half hour alone ? I will ask, then, what you 
have decided on doing. I want to be alone, to think over all 
you have said to me. I am bewildered— I want to arrange my 
thoughts. ” 


342 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


Without another word, they left him. 

Lord Darner had asked to be left alone, that he might think 
over all that he had heard — that he might suffer those first pangs 
in secret, where no eye, save the merciful one of Heaven, could 
note his agony. 

He had bravely vindicated her fair fame before those men — 
he would have died to vindicate her innocence ; but, standing 
there alone, he asked himself ; 

“ What did it mean 

One by one he went over those proofs slowly, the bracelet 
first. 

She had assuredly left the room with it on her arm. What, 
then, brought it there, lying, rusted with blood and with dew, 
near — nay, on the very spot — where the murder had been done.^ 
He had suggested that perhaps a servant had stolen it ; but 
surely, if that were the case, he would have been told of it ; his 
wife, or his wife’s maid, must have missed it, and would have 
spread the alarm. Even supposing that it had been stolen, who 
could have dropped it in that precise spot, at that precise time 
Who could have entered his wife’s room, and have taken the 
bracelet, when she or her maid must have been there } 

He took it up in his fingers, then dropped it as though 
the touch had burned him. It is no exaggeration to say that 
he wo”uld have given his life at that moment to have explained 
the appearance of the jewel, even to his own mind. 

He was obliged to leave it. 

He remembered how he had insisted himself on early hours 
that evening, and his wife, with smiling compliance, had left the 
drawing-room, while he remained to smoke a cigar with Aubrey 
Darner. 

Could she have gone smiling from his presence to that scene 
of secrecy and guilt.? 

Impossible ; he would not believe it. 

Then his eyes fell on the pearl-gray satin dress. Yes, he re- 
membered she had worn it, 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


343 


He had thought her looking more beautiful than usual, the 
color and texture of the dress suited her so well. She left the 
drawing-room w'earing it that evening, the night of the murder. 
What were the stains.? — from whence did they come.? How 
had this subtle, clever Frenchman, whose very presence was 
hateful to him, found that dress .? Even if she had been to the 
coppice gate with it on, how did it fall into the Frenchman’s 
hands ? 

The more he thought of it the more puzzled he became. It 
was strong evidence. Loving her, trusting her, believing' in her 
innocence, as he did, it was still most terrible proof. 

There, too, lay the crumpled piece of paper bearing the 
Words : 

“Lady Darner’s secret.” 

His wife’s secret ! What was it .? He tried to think back 
over the whole of their lives, and could find no trace of any. 

She was young when he met her at Brussels ; he remembered 
every detail. He had been invited to a royal ball, and there 
met Hope Charteris and her sister, the lovely young Florence, 
who was fast turning all the wise heads in the. city. He had 
fancied her about eighteen, but found she was twenty. He had 
fallen most passionately in love with her, and, knowing the 
name to be that of a good old family, he had not hesitated in 
making her an offer of marriage. ^ 

She loved him — he was sure of that — and her love had gone 
on increasing day by day. He did not believe her thoughts 
had ever wandered from him. ^ 

Since her marriage it was absurd to suppose that any Secret 
had come between them — there had been no time for any. He 
did not remember that they had ever been parted for mg) re than 
twenty-four hours, and he was quite sure that her thoughts had 
been fully occupied with her love for himself, for her children, 
and the duties of her position. 

A secret — absurd ! What husband would care to know that 
the young girl he had loved, the young wife he had won, had a 


344 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRET. 


secret from him that had been corroding her heart for all the 
years of her married life, and had led her to murder in the 
end ? 

No ; looking back through the long vista of years, he was 
confident that, since their marriage, no secret had come be- 
tween them. 

She had told him her every thought — they had all been mir- 
rored on her sweet face. 

Could it have been before marriage ? No ! Shame on the 
thought. She was a young girl when he met her, pure, fair, 
and loving, living with her sister, who had been mother and 
sister to her. 

What room had there been in that life for a secret ? The very 
idea was hateful to him. 

Could it be that Hope had any mystery in her life ? Could 
there have been a secret marriage, bitterly repented of, and kept 
secret ever since ? or was it all a chimera of fancy ? Had his 
wife known Hope’s secret, and, for her sister’s sake, involved 
herself in it ? 

He must find that out. If there was indeed a secret, it was 
Hope’s. If there was any wrong, it was Hope’s, and no one 
living should attach any blame to his beautiful, peerless, loving 
wife. 


. CHAPTER LXII. 

SORROW MORE BITTER THAN DEATH. 

Then Lord Darner bethought himself of the men who were 
waiting. He was no nearer solving the mystery than he had 
been before. 


LADY DAMER’S SECRET. 


345 


He opened the door, and M. Dupre, who had begun to grow 
slightly uneasy, was the first to enter. He looked round, think- 
ing that, perhaps after all, he had not been very wise in trusting 
his precious proofs to the care of the suspected criminal’s hus- 
band. But there they lay, untouched. 

“I should like to ask one question,” said Lord Darner. 
“What step do you intend to take next?” 

M. Dupre moved uneasily ; it was not pleasant to look in 
that dignified, handsome, noble face, and say plainly what he 
thought. 

“ Your lordship is aware that the coroner’s inquest is held to- 
day at the keeper’s cottage ?” 

“I know it,” replied Lord Darner. 

“ I have thought it better not to take any steps until after it 
is over. It is over by this time, I imagine. The verdict will 
be willful murder against some person or persons unknown ; the 
coroner will issue a warrant for the apprehension of any sus- 
pected person, and then ” 

He paused abruptly. 

“Then what?” repeated Lord Darner. 

“ I shall have the painful task of apprehending a lady whom 
all the world holds in high honor and esteem.” 

“That is to say you will charge — nay, I cannot bring myself 
to utter such false words, so shameful, so false — you will dare 
to inflict this crowning injury on the lady I am proud to call 
wife. ” 

“ It must be so,” said M. Dupre. 

“Suppose,” continued Lord Darner, “that any new evidence 
comes to light, and shows you the case under quite a diftcrent 
aspect, what then?” . 

“I should be heartily pleased ; but do not give way to vain 
hope, my lord. From the first I suspected more in this case 
than meets the eye. I was puzzled as to the motive ; that mo- 
tive is clear enough now ; either the young man lost his life 


LADY DAMER ’ ^ SECRE T. 


346 

that the secret should be kept, or he was killed in a moment of 
fierce indignation ; I cannot judge which/’ 

“Does she, Lady Darner, know anything of this?” inquired 
the master of Avonwold. 

“No. Our inquiries and suspicions have been kept quite 
silent.” 

“ Then grant me a favor. I pledge you my word as an En- 
glish gentleman that there shall he no escape from justice. The 
arrest need not, you say, be made at once ; give me three days’ 
respite ; it is not much to ask when the honor , of my house, the 
fair fame of my race, the honor of my wife, is at stake — three 
days’ respite. Will you grant it to me ? It is perhaps the first 
time that a Darner of Avonwold ever had to ask a grace. ” 

“lam willing, my lord,” said M. Dupre. “ It can make no 
difference. ” 

“It may make the difference of the whole world to me,” said 
Lord Darner, with dignified courtesy, “and I thank you for it. 
Pray remain here. Monsieur Dupre. The Darners know how 
to treat a foe, and as sworn foes we shall henceforward meet.” 

M. Dupre bowed gravely. 

“For three days,” he said, “I have the honor to bid your 
lordship adieu ; at the end of the time I shall return, and then 
justice must take its course.” 

They went away, and he was left alone. Once he was tempt- 
ed to speak very angrily ; it was when he saw how carefully the 
officer packed up those terrible proofs that would tell so strong- 
ly, he knew, against his wife. 

He was standing there tiydng to collect his thoughts — to 
nerve himself to meet the every-day duties of life — when he 
heard the sound of voices at the door. It was a shock to him 
when he saw the bright, laughing face of Rose, and the calm, 
proud features of Isabel Darner. 

“ Papa, do forgive me ; I waited until I thought you had for- 
gotten me. Do you remember having asked me about some 
papers ?” 


LAD V DAMER SECRET. 


347 


He looked at her with the air of a man who remembers with 
difficulty. Years it seemed to him had passed since then — long, 
terrible years. 

“Lord St. Albans came nearly an hour since to ride with 
Rose, and is growing impatient,” said Isabel Darner, by way of 
explanation. “Why, Karl, what is the matter with you .? How 
ill and ghastly you look. ” 

Rose sprang to his side with quick concern. 

“You are ill, papa, and you never told us. Your face is 
white as death; you have drops like great beads on your brow ; 
your hands tremble. What is the matter 

“Nothing, my darling ; the heat is great, and I never could 
bear this sultry weathei the sunshine is enough to blind one.” 

He looked at her beautiful face in an agony too great for 
words. So bright, so blooming — her young lover, son of the 
proudest race in England, waiting for her — and this foul charge, 
yet unexplained, hanging over her mother. 

“Papa,” cried Rose, “let me get you something. You are 
ill, I am sure.” 

“No, darling; do not keep Archie waiting. Never mind 
my papers, we will attend to them another time.” 

“Let her be happy while she may,” he thought; “Heaven 
only knows how long it may last.” 

“I am unwilling to leave you, papa,” murmured the girl, 
pressing closely to his side. “Do you think I could enjoy my 
ride with Archie, taking with me the memory of that pale 
face 

“Then I hope Archie will scold; there is nothing wrong 
with me, darling; run away. I have business that must be at- 
tended to.” 

Rose left the room slowly, with tears in her eyes. Isabel 
Darner threw herself in an easy chair, with an expression of 
very ill-humor. 

“Am I intruding, also she asked, satirically. 

“No,” replied Lord Darner. 


LAD Y DAMER SECRE T. 


348 

“This is a perfect house of mystery/' she cried. “ I cannot 
think what has come over it. Avonwold used to be all sun- 
shine, now it is all gloom." 

“What do you mean, Isabel ?’’ he asked, quickly. 

‘ ‘ I mean, Karl, exactly what I say. There is an atmosphere 
of mystery that I do not like. I ask for Miss Charteris, and 
am told she is in her room unable to see any one ; I ask for 
Lady Darner, and after being put off, Heaven knows how many 
times, I go to her, and find her looking — I really cannot help 
the expression — half crazed. You are shut up here with stran- 
gers. What does it mean? Is there anything wrong?" 

“You make mountains of trifles, Isabel," he replied, trying 
to speak cheerfully. “What should be wrong?” 

“Nothing should be, but evidently something is," she replied. 
“I detest mysteries.” 

“So do I," he retorted. “You are making them, Isabel." 

“Ever since that unfortunate affair, it has been the same 
thing. Surely, although we may be very sorry for it, we are 
not to look at it as a family misfortune, are we?" 

“lam tired of discussing the affair," he said, “and I must 
ask you to excuse me, Isabel. I have business. ” 

He left the room with those words. 

“There is something wrong," said Isabel Darner, with an air 
of triumph. “I thought I could not be mistaken. It was not 
in vain the sound of pattering rain drops was heard on the night 
my lady came home.” 

Lord Darner went to the morning-room, where the ladies of 
the house generally sat. It was empty. He went to his wife's 
room, and rapped at the door. Was it her voice that bade him 
enter, a voice from which all the music had died away ? He 
entered, and the strangest sight met his gaze. Hope Charteris 
was seated there, and his wife, the beautiful Florence, Lady 
Darner, knelt on the floor at her sister's feet. 

When she saw her husband’s face she raised her hands with a 
a cry he never forgot. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


349 


"‘Oh, Hope! Hopei my dream has come true. Karl, what 
is it.? If you look at me so I shall die I” 

But he, the loyal husband, the noble man, the chivalrous de- 
scendant of a grand race, knelt by her side, and clasped his 
arm round her. 

“Come what will, my wife,” he said, “we will meet it to- 
gether. ” 


CHAPTER LXIII. 

“l AM NOT GUILTY.” 

Florence, Lady Darner, looked up in her husband’s face; 
her beautiful eyes had in them nothing but the darkness of de- 
spair. 

“Oh, Karl I do not speak so kindly to me. I wish I had 
died before you had seen me. I wish I could die now, and 
save you the misery of my shame.” 

And the proud, beautiful head, that had never been lowered 
before, was bent now, low as the dust. He looked at her in 
wondering surprise. 

“I do not understand you, my wife. You cannot for one 
moment think that I believe this infamous story. Why, my 
darling I but for knowing what is due to the majesty of the law, 
I would have trampled the soul out of the man who dared first 
to mention it.” 

He saw across the pain and anguish of her face an expression 
of such utter wonder that he in his turn was puzzled. Hope 
Charteris saw that each one had something quite different in 
their thoughts. 


350 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“ Karl, ” she said, gently, “will you tell Florence what you 
mean ? She does not understand you. ’’ 

“But surely she knows, or why do I find her thus.-’ Surely 
there is no other trouble hanging over us, none but this, that 
my wife and I can share together.?” 

Hope looked at him ; great drops of silent fear gathered on 
her brow; her heart grew cold ; she saw plainly enough they 
w^ere at cross purposes Florence imagined her husband knew 
the story of Verner’s existence ; he believed that she had heard 
she was charged with willful murder. 

“I do not believe one word of it. Floy, my darling, oh, re- 
member always my love for you ; my faith in you is untouched, 
unshaken. Were the proofs twenty times as strong, I should 
swear that accidental circumstances had brought them together. 
Look at me, sweet wife ; tell me I am right. Smile at me ; 
have no fear.” 

But her proud head drooped still lower ; the golden hair 
swept the floor in its waving, bright abundance. Lord Darner 
looked up in alarm, the face he loved so dearly was turned from 
him. 

“Hope,” he cried, “tell me, in Heaven’s name, what this 
means.” 

But she laid her trembling hands on him. 

“Be patient, Karl, only a few minutes; be patient, there is 
a mistake. Floy does not understand of what she is accused.” 

“Then why is she kneeling here.?” he persisted. “Why not 
look at me.? why not help me to clear her from this most foul 
charge ?” 

Then Miss Charteris took from the table near her a folded 
paper, and held it out to him. 

“This frightened my sister,” she said. “I found her weep- 
ing and bewildered over it.” 

Lord Darner read the little note that the kind detective in 
his anxiety had written, advisingx Lady Darner to leave Avon- 


ZADV DAMER ’5 SECRET. 


■351 

wold. A suspicion as to the writer crossed his mind, but he 
said nothing. 

“And this frightened you, my darling.?'’ he said, tenderly. 
“The stupid, blundering man, to fix such a charge on you — 
the sweetest, the most gentle of women ; if it were not too terri- 
ble it would be absurd. It is of this very matter I have come 
to speak to you. There is no mistake, Hope.” 

Florence, Lady Darner, clasped her white, soft arms round 
her husband’s neck. She laid her beautiful head on his breast ; 
something of confidence seemed restored to her. 

“Will you tell me what it means, Karl? I do not under- 
stand it. Why should I leave Avonwold ?” 

Perhaps in all his life. Lord Darner found nothing so dilficult 
as answering that question. Knowing the proud, tender nature 
of the woman, he would have felt it easier to have broken any 
other intelligence to her than this. 

“My darling Floy, it is all a stupid mistake; a few words 
from you will set it right. You can explain it all away. This 
note is written by some one who wishes you well, but evidently 
believes the nonsense.” 

She raised her beautiful eyes to his. 

“Will you tell me, Karl, what the nonsense is?” 

He was quite silent for some minutes, and then the mur- 
mured words of a prayer left his lips. I believe he would rath- 
er have faced a regiment of the most deadly foes than have 
gone through that ordeal. 

“Yes, love, I will tell you. You remember the most fatal 
accident that happened here ? How on the very eve of the feU 
that unfortunate Rob Elster was found dead — murdered, they 
say ?” 

“I remember,” she whispered; “but, Karl, what has it to 
do with me ? I was very sorry, but ” 

“Listen, Floy. Our superintendent. Sergeant Ayrton., sent 
to London for a detective — murders must be punished— and 


352 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


this man, who came purposely to discover the crime, has been 
here at Avcnwold ever since. ” 

^‘And you never told me?” she said. 

“Why should I, my darling? What need to distress you? 

I was advised not to mention the fact of this man’s hated pres- 
ence, and I did not. I never dreamed of annoying you with 
such information.” 

“It might have been better,” murmured the white lips, and 
then Lord Darner went on : 

“This detective, said to be the most clever of his kind, has - 
proved himself to be a terrible blunderer after all ; for his sus- 
picions — oh ! Florence, my wife, pardon me that I must say 
such words ; do not hate me for them — his suspicions have fall- 
en upon you /” 

Her white arms loosened their clasp — her beautiful face grew 
rigid and terrible in its horror and fear. She rose slowly, and 
stood before him, erect and stately in her awful agony. 

“They suspect me?” she gasped ; “and why? tell me why, 
Karl ?” 

But it was not so easy to tell. For the first time it struck 
him how awful those proofs were. 

“You must be brave, my darling,” he said. “lam sure 
you can explain all that looks strange. You ask me why they 
suspect you. In the first place, do you remember the golden 
and emerald bracelet that I gave you on that very night?” 

A sudden cry came from her white lips, and that cry told 
him she had never remembered the jewel from that hour to 
this. 

“It was found, rusted with dew and stained with blood, on 
the very spot where the murder was committed,” he said. 

They never forgot the terrible moan that seemed to escape 
her, against her will. 

“I know that you can explain how the jewel came to be 
there,” he continued, eagerly. “It only wants a few words 
from you, love, to set all straight. 


LAD V DAMER ’ 6 ’ SECRE T. 


353 

But the voice that answered him was unlike the voice of 
Florence, his wife; it was a terrible sound of fear and woe. 

“Tell me what else.? What other proofs? What cause for 
suspicion? Do not keep me waiting, Karl; suspense will kill 
me.’" 

“On that same most fatal evening you wore a dress — a pearl- 
gray satin — and this man, with infernal cunning, has found his 
way into your room, Floy, and has there discovered the dress — 
oh, my darling! my darling ! — all stained with blood I” 

Whiter and more rigid still grew the beautiful face ; more 
awful still the look in those violet eyes. 

“ What more?” she whispered, and in that moment those who 
loved her best must have wished her dead, and at rest. 

“In the pocket-book of the murdered man they found a pa- 
per, Florence, and on it, in his own hand, is written, ‘ Lady 
Darner’s secret.’ Those are what they call proofs. I do not 
believe one word of them ; but you, my darling, for the satis- 
faction of these wretched men, you must explain them awa^. ” 

Until the hour of his death Lord Darner never forgot what 
followed. 

She flung up her white arms with a terrible cry — a cry' that 
haunted him — like the passionate despair of a lost soul, and 
then threw herself on the ground at his feet. 

“Heaven! oh. Heaven!” he heard her say, “my sin has 
found me out !” 

She buried her face in her white hands, in the coils of rich, 
golden hair, and then Hope knelt down by her side. 

“Florence,” said the grave, kindly voice, “there is no need 
to despair. An angel from Heaven could not be more guilt- 
less of this murder than you— tell your husband so.” 

But for all answer she sobbed aloud : 

“Oh, Heaven ! have mercy on me 1” 


354 


LADV DAMER ’ S SECRE T, 


CHAPTER LXIV. 

“the secret.” 

Lord Darner did not raise his wife ; a horrible fear came over 
him. 

Was this how innocent women met so shameful a charge ? 
He had believed she would tower above him in her indignant 
pride. He had expected an outburst of fury, and she lay crouch- 
ing on the ground at his feet. 

He looked at Hope, and the two who loved that prostrate 
woman so dearly stood gazing helplessly at each other. 

“ Hope, my sister,” said Lord Darner, at last, “can you ex- 
plain this to me V’ 

But, she, too, shrank shuddering from him. 

“But,” said Lady Damer, “ I — I am not guilty. My hands 
are free from the stain of murder as your own. I am not 
guilty ; but, on the night he died, I was there at the little gate 
with him.” 

“You, Florence — with him P” 

“Yes,” she replied, “on that night, when you, perhaps, be- 
lieved me sleeping, I stole from the house, and met him at the 
coppice gate, at the end of the lime trees. ” 

“I cannot believe it!” cried Lord Damer. “You, my wife, 
to meet a young man, a stranger ! Florence, you are either 
mad or dreaming.” > 

“ I am neither. Oh, Hope 1 ” she wailed, ‘ ‘ my sister, tell 
him I was really there.” 

“Florence never spoke falsely; she is not dreaming,” said 
Miss Charteris, sadly. 

“I — I went to meet him, Karl ; he wanted to see me, and 
wrote to me to come. I meant no harm. I had no thought 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 ' SEC RE T. 355 

of murder, or of death. I was talking to him, and I remem- 
ber seeing that bracelet on m3’ arm as I stood by the gate.” 

“Go on,” said Lord Darner; “keep nothing from me, 
Florence.” 

‘ ‘ I cannot tell you liow long I was there, for the time passed 
like a terrible dream, and I was speaking of some one — some 
one I love, when, Karl, through the silence of the star-lit night, 
there came the sound of a shot fired close to me. Before I had 
time to look round to cry for help — oh, Karl, the horror of it ! 
— the warm blood seemed to cover me, and he fell against me 
dead ! If I realize that moment, in all its terror, I shall die, 
too. ” 

“And then .?” said Lord Darner. 

“Then,” she continued, “I knelt down by his side, and 
raised his head. I saw by his face what had happened ; he was 
even then dead.” 

“And you heard nothing.? You have no clew? You saw 
no one?” 

“No,” she replied. “Before the shot was fired, I was 
wrapped in the horror of what he was saying ; after, I thought 
of nothing.” 

“The bracelet fell from your arm then?” said Lord Da- 
rner. 

“I should imagine so,” she replied, with the calmness of 
utter despair; “I do not remember; I did not notice it; I 
have not missed it. When I saw that he was dead, I believe 
that, between fear and dread, I went mad. I can remember 
flying through the lime grove with the dreadful fancy that the 
dead man was running after me ; I can remember, too, rnging 
for hot water to wash those terrible stains from my hands. 
Karl, I never thought of these things rising as proofs against me ; 
I only thouught of the horror of the stains.” 

“?.Iy poor Florence,” he said, gently, “ it is terrible !” 

“lam sure I was mad,” she continued. “All the long night 
after was a blank horror ; the only idea that came clearly to my 


LAD y DAMER ’ 6 " SEC RE T. 


356 

mind was that my hands must be freed from the terrible stain, 
I can tell you no more, Karl. I have never missed the jewel — 
I had not thought of the dress — who did that terrible deed 
— who wrought that cruel murder on the threshhold of our 
home — I am as ignorant as you. ” 

‘ ‘ Why did you not trust me, Florence ? When you came 
back to the house, knowing the murder was done, why did 
you not come to me at once? Why not trust me? I should 
have known w'hat to do. I could have saved you the agony 
of this cruel suspicion. Why did you not trust me ?” 

“I dare not,” she moaned ; “I was mad, Karl, and I dare 
not. There was a secret, and if I had told you of my meeting 
with him, I must have told you why.” 

“And because you could not trust me, Florence, with your 
secret, now all England will know it. To clear yourself, you 
will have to tell how you stole from my roof to meet this man ; 
and, to verify your story, you must tell why you so went. Oh, 
my wife ! why not have trusted me ?” 

Her only answer was an outburst of such weeping that his 
heart was broken to hear it. 

“ Florence,” he said, raising her tenderly in his arms, and 
kissing away the tears that fell like rain, ‘ ‘ I know your secret ! 
You are a heroine, my darling — a true-hearted heroine. You 
went to meet that young man to screen and save your sister. 
Look up, sweet wife ! there is no need for tears, no need for 
shame. You have sacrificed yourself for your sister, and she 
has accepted the sacrifice. ” 

He held his wife in his arms, he clasped her tightly to him, 
he kissed her face, and then turned, with glowing eyes, to Hope 
Charteris. 

“Hope,” he said, gravely, “I will not reproach you, but 
was it well or kindly done to let the whole burden of your girl- 
ish folly fall on this beloved head? I know your secret, Hope! 
It has been told to me by those who have tried to hunt down 
my wife. I know that years ago— alas ! that I should have to 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


357 


say such words to you, whom I honored among women — years 
ago you became the mother of the young man we know as Ver- 
ner Elster. Nay, Florence, do not tremble, sweet. You have 
never failed in love or duty to your sister ; she has failed in al- 
lowing this, the burden of her secret, to fall on you.” 

A low cry from Lady Darner, and Hope Charteris looked up, 
with the light of heroism in her face. 

“ Hush, Florence,” she said ; “your husband has the right 
to blame me ; do not interfere, let him speak to me as he 
will.” 

“ It is no secret now, ” said Lord Darner, ‘ ‘ at least, to me. 
I can understand the whole of it. That unhappy man had 
found out the secret, and he naturally tried to make the most 
he could of it. Perhaps he did not succeed with you, Hope, 
iSO resolved trying upon your sister. Florence will never be- 
tray you, I know ; but you could not look me in the face and 
deny that it was for this she went out to meet him.” 

There was hardly a struggle in that noble soul, save such as 
ever takes place between honor and truth, when they come into 
contact with falsehood. 

She had given her life’s love and her life’s care to this sister 
it seemed little to add, as she had done before, her fair fame 
and womanly repute. 

She looked at Lord Darner with pathos he must have been 
blind not to see. 

“ I do not deny it. Lord Darner,” she said, gravely. “I own 
to you that it was about this most unhappy secret that Florence, 
my sister, went out to meet Robert Elster. ” 


358 


LADY DAMEK'S SECRET. 


CHAPTER LXV. 

GOADED TO BETRAYAL. 

Lord Darner was exceedingly displeased. He was so far an- 
gry as to forget to notice that the figure in his arms had become 
a mere dead-weight, and that the face his lips still touched was 
cold as death itself. Too angry to notice that the idolized wife 
had fainted when the smart. of her pain became too great to 
be borne. 

“You should have trusted me, Hope,” he said, gravely. “As 
a matter of course, I have no rights, either of relationship 
or influence, over you ; but you did wrong to keep this secret 
from me.” 

He did not understand the quiet dignity of her attitude, as 
she replied : 

“Yes, I have done wrong, Lord Darner; no one feels it 
more bitterly than myself. See ! Florence has fainted. Lay 
her down. She is not strong enough for such scenes as 
these. ” 

But he drew his wife aside as though that loving, sisterly 
touch had something of contamination in it. He laid her down, 
and drew back the golden hair from the white face. 

“ I will not reproach you, Hope ; but she did believe in you 
so entirely, to lose her faith must be like losing her life.” 

No answer from patient Hope. 

She was thanking Heaven in her heart, and hoping that she 
might bear the brunt and blame of her sister’s sin as long as she 
lived, for Lord Darner himself had no suspicion of his wife — 
she saw that very plainly. He quite believed in the mistake 
made by the clever detectives, that Verner was her son. 

Oh ! if that mistake could but last, and Florence live the 
rest of her life free from sorrow and blame. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


359 


I would so gladly bear it/’ she said to herself, "‘if Heaven, 
in its mercy, will only shield Florence. I have no husband, no 
children, and she has both.” 

Yet no woman living cared more for her fair name than Hope 
Charteris, who, for her sister’s sake, would so gladly have laid it 
down. 

It was a scene for an artist ; the beautiful woman lying in 
that dead swoon, the drooping figure of her sister, so full of 
kindliness, of pathos, and of heroism ; and the tall, stately hus- 
band by her side, who would fain have ordered, even from her 
unconscious presence, the sister he no longer believed worthy of 
her love. 

When Hope would have touched her, would have kissed the 
white lips into something like life, he waved her, half impa- 
tiently, away. 

“Hope,” he said, gravely, “considering that I am your sis- 
ter’s husband, that you have lived under my roof as one of my 
own, that the honor of my name and race has been, in some 
measure, intrusted to you, 1 have a right to ask you to tell me 
the truth of this story.” 

She bowed her head with a meek dignity that touched him. 

“You have every right,” she repeated, humbly, “ to ask me 
what you will.” 

“Then tell me,” he said, “is this story true.? Are you the 
mother of this young man whose coming among us has been 
like a curse .?” 

“ I cannot answer you,” she replied. 

His face flushed and his lips quivered. 

“My wife is the purest of women,” he said ; “my daughter 
a young and stainless chlH. Hope Charteris, are you worthy to 
associate with F .ni*.'' if yor will answer no other question, at 
least answer this ; .iw yon i -eii niarried .?” 

Perhaps he vostooK the deep flush that crimsoned her face 
for guilt ; he looked at her sternly. 

“Lord Darner,” she said, humbly, “you have every right to 


360 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


questicn me ; I must implore your pardon in that I cannot an- 
swer you. Ah ! believe me, I would if I could.’' 

“That is answer sufficient,” s^id Lord Darner, sadly. “Oh, 
Hope ! Hope ! I would rather, far rather, have seen you dead 
than thus ! Oh, Hope ! you must leave my wife and children ! 
I could never bear to see you with them again ! You must go 
from the home where you have been honored as woman never 
was before !” 

“ You are right,” she said, gently ; “I will go, Karl.” 

“ I have no wish to pry into your secrets,” he said ; “but, 
Hope, I should, for your own sake, like to know how it was. 
Did you marry unhappily ? Did you marry beneath you .? 
Were you deceived, ill-treated, or frightened? Or was it worse, 
Hope — were you betrayed? Trust me, at least, so far.” 

But though the kindness of his words touched her, and 
brought the tears into her eyes, she had no answer for him. 

“You will not trust me, then, even so far, Hope?” 

“I cannot,” she replied; “next to Florence, you are dearer 
to me than any one else in the whole world, but even to you I 
cannot breathe one word of the secret.” 

“It is to me,” he said, slowly, “as though one of the bright- 
est stars had fallen from heaven. I cannot believe it. I could 
rather have believed all creation false than you. ” 

They heard a low voice saying : 

“Hope, mother and sister, come to me.” 

“Karl,” she said, “we have been true brother and sister. 
You have cared for me, and I have loved you. You have sent 
me to-day from your house forever; see, I, who never knelt to 
mortal before, kneel to you now, and pray you leave me five 
minutes, ten minutes, alone with Florence before I go. You 
wall not say to me that I, who have been sister and mother to 
her all her life, cannot be trusted with hex ow. You would 
not insult me so far. ” v 

No, he could not; he tried to resist, he tried to say that wo- 
men with guilty secrets should hold no commuuirn wdth hon- 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


3^1 

orable women ; but as he looked at her the cruel words died on 
his lips. 

He could not tell how it was — she looked in that moment 
more like a heroine than a guilty woman, whose life’s secret 
had just come to light. 

“ If Florence wishes it,” he said, “I will go. I will give you 
ten minutes — no longer.” 

And Lord Darner left the sisters together, with no less of pain 
than if he had just laid Hope in her grave and buried her. 

Once more alone, it was Hope wLo knelt by her sister’s side. 

“ Florence — Florence !” she cried, wildly, “try to imderstind 
me. Oh! my darling, do not look, do not tremble so; try to 
follow what I am going to say to you. I did deceive you, 
Floy ; I told you that your little baby was dead. It was for 
your own sake, love, not mine ; it was to give you, in your fair 
young life, another chance ; it was to hide your w'eakness from 
all men, and let you five, beautiful and beloved. I had no 
other motive. That baby boy did not die, Florence ; he has 
lived to be as you see him, beautiful and gifted. Floy, my 
darling, can you forgive me Will you pardon me.? It was 
for y^ou I did it !” 

“I do forgive you,” w'hispered a sweet voice. “You were 
always kindest and wisest, but I did not know he, Verner, was 
my son.”- 

“You have never told me your secret, my Florence, and I 
have never asked it since I promised that it should remain a 
mystery; but let it be as it might, I knew, Florence, there was 
no hope or chance of your happy settlement in life if it were 
known that you, so y^oung and beautiful, was mother of a living 
child. That you might retrieve your lost position, darling, I 
took upon myself the charge of the child. , I placed him where 
I knew' he would be well nursed, and the secret of his parentage 
most faithfully kept. From a distance I have watched over him, 
and have done all that I could for him, still for your sake, and 
now, my darling, your secret is safe still ; owing to what I have 


362 


LADY D AMENDS SECRET. 


told you, every one believes that I am Verner’s mother, and you 
are safe/’ 

But Florence w^as looking at her with vague, dreamy eyes. 

“You cannot bear the burden, Hope. Am I so mean or so 
base as to let you suffer for me?” 

“But, Floy, you must. Oh, darling, be reasonable; if the 
truth be told, you, an honored wife, a mother blessed and re- 
vered, a lady looked up to and worshiped — ^you will lose all. 
Your husband must curse the day he saw you; your children 
lose not only their love and faith, but the world’s esteem. 
Would you break Rose’s heart, and bow Charlie’s head in bit- 
terest shame? Oh, my sister, because I am alone in the world, 
because I am strong and have nothing to lose, let us keep the 
secret still, and let Verner pass as my son and not as yours. 
Will you grant my prayer?” 




CHAPTER LXVI, 

' “you are his mother.” 

Lady Darner looked up in surprise at seeing her husband ac- 
companied by a strange woman. It must be remembered that 
she herself had never seen Jane Elster. Verner had spoken of 
his mother, Rob had done the same, but she had never felt any 
great interest in the woman of whom she had heard only as the 
mother of two sons utterly dissimilar. Something in the tragi- 
cal aspect of this woman struck her at once — the white, rigid 
face, the dark lines round the eyes, the compressed lips, the 
yearning sorrow, the unutterable woe — a face such as must 
have been seen among the women of Eg^’pt lamenting the first- 
born. 


a 


LAD Y DAMER *S SECRE T. 363 

Hope Charteris looked up also, and from her white lips there 
came a cry of terror and surprise. 

She would fain have clutched the hand of that sorrowful 
mother, and offered her all she had on earth to keep her from 
saying the words that were trembling on her lips. 

But Jane Elster looked neither to the right nor the left ; there 
was in her manner such majesty of woe, that, no matter what 
she had done, no one would have interfered with her. 

She went up to Lady Darner. 

“What have I done to you,” she asked, “that you should 
make me this cruel return.? I have nursed your child, and you 
have laid my home bare, waste, and desolate. I have worked 
for your honor and your safety. You have slain my son, robbed 
me of the only love — the only love. Heaven help me ! — that I 
had on earth. Why have you done this cruel deed ?” 

Lord Darner listened in horror and amaze ; his wife looked 
up with clear eyes into the tortured face. 

“You are quite mistaken,” she said. “I declare before 
Heaven, that I never wronged your son, never injured him in 
thought, word, or deed.” 

“You did!” cried the hapless mother. “You have slain 
him between you, because he discovered your secret. You have 
slain him, that you may preserve a fair name and high standing, 
that men may honor you when you do not deserve honor. For 
this you have slain my only son.” 

The two sisters looked hopelessly at each other. 

“ My heart tells me I am speaking truthfully,” continued the 
poor mother. “ Who should slay him? who has any interest 
in his death, save you ? His death preserves your secret, and 
so you have let him die.” 

“Oh, no!” cried Lady Darner, “I would rather the whole 
world should have known than that you should have lost your 
son.” 

Then Hope laid her sister’s head on the pillow and kissed her 
pale, sad face. 


LADY DAMER ’ .S’ SEC RE T. 


364 

She went up to Jane Elster and laid her firm, cool hand on 
the burning, trembling hands of the mother. 

"‘Jane, you will regret some day what you are saying now. 
You are beside yourself with sorrow, your grief has deprived 
you of all reason. Why should my sister harm your son.?” 

“To keep her secret, to prevent him from betraying her. I 
have always heard that to a fine lady human life is but so much 
dross. ” 

“But,” interrupted Lord Darner, speaking for the first time, 
“you are quite in error, Mrs. Elster; everything must be par- 
doned to one who has such sorrows as yours. My wife, Lady 
Damer, has no secret except her sister’s. It is of Miss Charteris 
you are speaking. She is, I believe, the mother of the young 
man who has always passed as your son.” 

Then the three women looked at each other, and Florence, 
Lady Damer, hid her face in her hands, with a low moan. 

“Hope,” she whispered, faintly, “it has come.” 

Jane Elster laughed bitterly. 

“They have deceived you, my lord; you are rich, and you 
are noble ; they have deceived you. The lady you call your 
wife — this cruel, beautiful, false woman, who slew my son — is 
the mother of Verner Elster. You may believe me — I have no 
object in deceiving you. ” 

Those who saw him in that moment never forgot the expres- 
sion of his face, the horror that seemed to fall like a chill over 
him — a stately tree struck by lightning and blighted in one in- 
stant. 

“Impossible !” he said at length, with trembling lips. “You 
are raving — you do not know what you are saying. ” 

“lam speaking the truth. Lady Damer, who slew my son, 
is Verner s mother.” 

Lord Damer looked from one to another. His wife, the fair 
woman, so peerless, and of whom he was so proud, crouched 
far from him, her face hidden in her hands. Jane Elster stood 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 - SEC RE T. 365 

there, like some accusing spirit ; Hope, with the light of hero- 
ism and self-sacrifice on her face, stepped forward. 

“Karl,’' she said, “you must not heed that woman’s words; 
I tell you sorrow has driven her mad. I plead guilty to you — 
Verner is my child.” 

Even as she spoke the lie that she hoped would save her sis- 
ter, Hope’s kindly face flushed with deepest shame. 

“Blame me,” she continued; “ blame no one else ; blame 
me for keeping my secret from you. Blame me for the young 
man’s death, only spare my sister — spare Florence!” 

“What am I to believe?” cried Lord Darner. “It seems to 
me that I am involved in a web of treachery and deceit.” 

“Believe me,” said Hope, quickly, “you will repent through 
your whole life if you give credit to any other words than 
mine.” ' 

Jane Lister’s voice sounded clear and grave. 

‘ ‘ Believe me, my lord ; I have no object in deceiving you. 
If they had not slain my son I would rather have been torn 
into a thousand pieces than have betrayed them. When I saw 
Lady Darner first she lay ill, at the very point of death. Dr. 
West, of Riversmead, was by her side, and Miss Charteris gave 
her little child to me to nurse.” 

Hope attempted to speak, but Lord Darner said gravely : 

“Go on; let me hear all.” 

“I took the little babe, and my heart warmed to him. I 
looked at his 'mother. She was but a girl — almost a child — 
lying dying there, and I took the little babe to her ; I laid it 
for half a minute in her arms, but she was quite unconscious. 
She moaned all the time that her baby, her little baby was dead, 
and I said to her sister : 

“ ‘How young sh^ is to have been married and left,’ for they 
told me, my lord, that her husband was gone abroad. 

“I took that little child home and he has been to me as my 
own ever since. l\Iy lord, in return, they have slain my son. 

“Karl,” said Hope, “she is raving. Ah, for Heavens sake. 


LAD y DAMER ’ 6 ' SECRE T. 


366 

kindly send her away; she will poison your mind, and then my 
Florence will die. Send her away. Give her money — give her 
all she needs; but do not, for the. mercy of Heaven, keep her 
here. Then blame me^ curse me, if you will, when she is 
gone. 

But the voice of Jane Elster sounded clear and distinct. 

“I have spoken truthfully. If there rests the least doubt on 
my word, send to Riversmead and summon Dr. West. He is 
what the world calls a gentleman ; no one will doubt his truth. 
Send for him.” 

“Karl,” whispered Hope, “ send her away. I have the first 
claim on you — believe me, for Heaven’s sake. ” 

Her voice grew hoarse and faint. She stood before him, her 
hands clasped in supplication, her stately figure bent, her face 
so full of the agony of entreaty, he was at a loss what to say. 

“I must know the truth, Hope. Heaven knows I would 
fain htliQVQ you — I would fain believe this poor, bereaved moth- 
er to be mad. But, Hope, Hope, there is such method in her 
madness — there is something that savors of truth. No woman 
would dare to come forward and tell me such a tale of my wife 
unless there was some foundation, even though that very foun- 
dation was a mistake. Let m.e know the truth now at least.” 

“Send for Dr. West,” said Jane Elster, gravely. 

“Nay, I will go to one who may have kept a secret from me, 
but who has never, I will swear, deceived me — to one who loves 
and trusts me. Florence, my wife, I come to you. ” 

He crossed the room to where she stood, her face still hid- 
den, her stately figure trembling like the leaf of an aspen tree. 
He removed her hands from her face, and then clasped them in 
his own. 

“Florence,” he said, “I will not take another’s testimony 
on what concerns you ; I will listen neither to those who ac- 
cuse or those who defend you. I ask you simply for the" truth. 
Is what this woman says, true? Are you Verner’s mother?” 

There was a moment of hushed silence so intense, so deep. 


LAD Y DAMER ’ S SEC RE T, 367 

that he could hear his heart beat ; then slowly she sank on her 
knees at his feet, and laid her face on his hands. 

‘‘It is true, Karl — Heaven help me ! — I am Verner’s moth- 
er, and not Hope, as you have heard T’ 


CHAPTER LXVII. 

LADY DAMEr’s secret. ^ 

The words sounded clearly and distinctly in the deep silence 
^they were a death-knell to Lord Darner. He had kept his 
faith in her until the last ; he would have utterly rejected any 
other testimony, save that of her own word. His last hope 
died within him as he saw the kneeling figure at his feet. 

A sudden sense of what she had done came over Jane Elster. 
In the madness of her grief, and thirst for revenge, she had not 
thought of this ; the kneeling wife and heart-broken husband 
seemed to give her a shock that restored her calmer and better 
feelings, 

“ My lady,” she cried out, “what have I done 

“That which you could not undo if you lived forever !” said 
Miss Charteris.- “Stand aside! I grieve for your grief, but 
you have betrayed us, and I leave you to your fate. Oh, Flor- 
ence, my sister 1 for whom I have lived, for whom I have sacri- 
ficed the dearest wish of my heart, look up, I am near you. ” 

For she saw the golden head drooping lower and lower. She 
hastened to her sister, and took her in her arms. 

“Jttst as I did years ago,” she murmured, “my darling, 
when you were left to me a motherless babe — when you were a 
little, loving child. What have I ever loved as I love you, Flor- 
ence ?” 


LAD V DAMER ’ 6 - SECRE T. 


368 

No mother trying to console a child could have been more 
tender, more loving, while Lord Darner stood by, with a look 
Oil his face no one had ever seen there before. 

I am a man,'' he said, “and men must not complain ; but 
my heart is broken !" 

‘ ‘ Karl, " whispered his wife, ‘ ‘ send her away — that woman 
■W'ho has betrayed us — send her away, and I will tell you my 
story ; perhaps you will not hate me when I have told it, for I 
have not wronged you ; I have never loved any one as I love 
you, Karl — ^you will believe this ?" 

‘ ‘ I will believe anything you tell me, Florence. ” 

But something had gone from his manner that she had never 
missed before — something like warmth from the sunbeams — 
and the change fell upon her with a chill worse than death. She 
turned to Hope and hid her face, like a tired child, on that true 
breast. 

“Tell him, Hope," she whispered, “to send her away. I 
cannot speak to him while she stands there gloating over us — 
over the ruin she has made. Let her be sent away. " 

Lord Darner had heard the whispered words. 

“You have acted for the best, "he said, “you have done what 
you thought right, and this is the result. You must let your 
vengeance end here. My wife may have kept a secret from me ; 
in that respect you are right; but she has never injured your 
son ; in that respect you are quite wrong — time will solve the 
mystery. I must ask you again, let your revenge end here. 
Do no more harm to these unhappy ladies. Do not make the 
story of their sorrow public. Will you leave us, and remember 
what I say 

There was something in her face, as she turned away, that 
showed her heart was softened. She would have fain gone then 
to those unhappy ladies and asked pardon that she had betrayed 
them — pardon for her madness, her suspicion. But they seemed 
to have forgotten her, and Jane Elster passed out of the room 
with the bitterness of death in her heart. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 369 

- ‘'She is gone,” said Hope Charteris; “thank Heaven for 
that.” 

‘ ‘And now, my wife, now that we are alone, will you tell me 
what you have to say ?” 

But Lady Darner was weeping as he had never seen her weep 
before — a passionate torrent of tears that had in them no heal- 
ing, no hope. Her slender figure shook with long-drawn, vio- 
lent sobs. 

“ Hush, my darling,” said Hope. 

But, at the sound of her sister s voice. Lady Darner only wept 
the more. 

“ Florence,” said her husband's grave, kind voice, “ I do not 
wish to hurry you, but time is precious — will you tell me what 
you have to say ?” 

She flung her arms round her sister. 

“Kiss me, Hope,” she cried ; “ that will be your farewell to 
me. You have been mother and friend — you have been ever}^- 
thing to me. After I have told what I have to tell, you will 
love me no more.” 

Yet her story was told with Hope’s loving arms around her ; 
with Hope’s loving lips caressing her ; and, though she broke 
the heart that had been her safe shelter, Hope did not turn 
from her. 

“How am I to begin.?” she cried, wildly, looking from her 
husband to her sister ; “what am I to say.? — what words will 
tell you most fully of my cowardice, my — my treachery .? I can 
only plead to you, for Heaven’s sake, be merciful to me, for I 
was very young, easily influenced, and he loved me so dearly. 

“Ah, Hope! Karl may forgive me, you never can. Never 
was sister so devoted, so loving, so self-sacrificing as you ; never 
were love and devotion so cruelly repaid. 

“Years ago, sister, when I was left a child to your charge, 
you had a lover — the only man you ever cared for, a handsome 
man — who afterward became one of the leading statesmen in 
England, and, for my sake, you refused to marry him, that you 


370 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 6 ' SECRE T. 


might the better devote yourself to the motherless child left 
with you, It was so ; was it not, Hope ?” 

“Yes,” was the quiet reply. “I loved him, Floy, very dearly; 
but it seemed to me that you needed me most.” 

“Listen how I repaid you, Hope,” she continued. “When 
Thornton Marchmount was first your lover, he was then only- 
entering the arena of politics ; he loved you very much, and, in 
despair at losing you, threw himself, with the whole energy of 
his soul, into the struggle.” 

“Yes,” said Hope, quietly, “and I was so proud of him, I 
used to read his speeches, to follow his career with such inter- 
est; but I would never see him, Floy; I mistrusted myself; 
I thought the old love would master me. When he wrote, after 
we had parted, and asked me if we should be friends, 1 told 
him it was better for my purpose, better for my happiness that 
we should be apart. ” 

Her face grew soft as she said the words — a light they had 
never seen there came upon it. 

“He was my hero, Floy,” she whispered, “and, now, I may- 
say I worshiped him. ” 

“When I was just sixteen, Hope,” continued Lady Darner, 
“ I remember going one day to a drawer where you kept pri- 
vate papers. There I saw a portrait, the portrait of a handsome, 
fair-haired man, with a frank, debonair face — a face that looked 
as though it were made purposely to be loved. The eyes seemed 
to smile into mine as though we had a secret in common, and 
the lips looked as though they would speak to me. 

“I looked at the back of the picture ; there was the name — 
Thornton Marchmount. I went to you and asked you who he 
was. You only turned sadly from me, dear, and said a friend 
whom you had lost and should never see again. After that, 
Hope, I read his name in the papers, I read his speeches, and 
knew that of all the master-minds in England his was the grand- 
est. 

Oh, sister ! can you ever forgive me what I have to tell ?” 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


371 

The loving arms were not withdrawn from her ; but over 
Hope’s face there came a deep, passionate sorrow. 

' ‘ Floy,” she said, “it is not of him — your story. Say, dear, 
it cannot be of hmi 

But Lady Darner clung more closely to her. 

“ I know you will cease to love me,” she cried ; “but it is-- 
my story is all of him. Oh, Hope ! how I have deceived you ! 
Looking back, it seems to me that I have been mad.” 

There was silence for a few minutes. Hope Charteris, with 
white face, knelt, holding the trembling figure to her heart. 
Lord Darner looked from one to the other, not knowing what 
to say. 

“Do you remember once, Hope,” continued the pleading 
voice, “that I went with Mrs. Standish to Brighton.? We were 
there for a whole month. You always said, dear, that I was 
strangely silent over that journey, and the reason was because at 
Brighton I met him. • 

“Forgive me, Hope, if every word I say must stab your true 
and tender heart. I would die with my story untold, but that, 
for Karl’s sake, I must tell it. 

“ I met him one evening when we had all gone on the pier. 

I did not recognize him at first, though the fair, handsome face 
was strangely familiar to me. All that evening, Hope, he spent 
by my side ; he never left me ; his eyes never wandered from 
my face. I had not distinctly heard the name, and it was not 
until the evening was over that 1 knew he was your lover, 
Thornton Marchmount, and then — then he said the mischief 
was done. ” 


372 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


CHAPTER LXVIII. 

THE STORY CONTINUED. 

‘‘Hope, you know I was but a child, and he was a clever, 
brilliant man, dear. I only liked him at first because he had 
loved you. We used to talk of you for hours. 

“ He was older than I, perhaps fifteen years. I cannot tell, 
but I know that to me he seemed more of a hero than a mere 
mortal man. 

“ Once I asked him to let me tell you that he was here ; but 
he looked strangely at me and said no, so I never told you, 
Hope, 

“At first, we talked of nothing but you ; how kind, how no- 
ble, how true you were ; but one evening — the tide was going 
down, and we had wandered far from the others — and he told 
me that he loved me. 

“Oh, Hope ! was ever any one so loved before ? 

“I can remember the passion in his face, the light in his 
eyes. I was but a child, and I was carried away with it. 

“ I cannot remember it all — it is like a delirium to me — but 
I know he said he loved me as no one had ever been loved be- 
fore ; he worshiped me ; he lived only in my presence ; h& 
thought of me by night and by day. 

“And he was a clever statesman; I was but a child — a dream- 
ing, fanciful, imaginative child. 

“I thought I loved him — nay, I did love him, with the kind 
of reverential adoration young girls have at times for wise and 
celebrated men. 

“But, Hope, though I lived in this dream, though I was 
surrounded by his passionate love as by the very air I breathed, 
I had no thought of deceiving_ye?«. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


373 

“The first time he told me in such wild words that he loved 
me, I said : 

“ ‘ Let me write to Hope ; let me tell Hope/ 

“ But he shrank as though a death-chill had fallen over him.. 

“ ‘I cannot,’ he said ; ‘at least, not yet. You see, my Flor- 
ence — my Florence, so sweet and fair — ^years ago, when I w'as 
young, I loved your sister Hope, and she loved me. I asked 
her to be my wife, and she refused, because, she said, you were 
her life-charge — you had been left to her as a legacy by your dy- 
ing mother, and she could never leave you.’” 

There came a low moan from Hope Charteris. 

Lady Darner continued : 

“He said you loved him still, he thought, and that he could 
not tell you just yet that the child for whoi^ you had sacrificed 
yourself had proved your rival ; he could not tell you just yet— 
we must wait. 

“I was like wax in his hands ; no thought of disobeying him 
ever occurred to me. Yet I longed to tell you, Hope.” 

“Why did you not, Floy? All this terror, this misery, this 
wretchedness and wrong would have been averted then. Oh ! 
why did you not trust me ? ’ 

“Because he said it would break your heart, it was such a 
wretched return for your goodness. 

“And, Hope, I know now — I can see now — how he strug* 
gled between his love for me and his sorrow for you. Some- 
times he would stay away from me a whole day, and then he 
would be more like a madman than anything else. He would 
hold me in his arms ; he would weep over me — I can remem- 
ber how his tears would fall on my face ; he would kiss my eyes, 
my hair, my hands ; he would kneel at my feet and pray me to 
pardon him that he had tried to love me less. 

“Then he would cry out that Hope must not be wounded — 
Hope, so noble and true — we must wait yet awhile. 

“ I can safely declare that he bewildered me so with his pas- 


374 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


sionate sorrow, his beauty, his genius, his tenderness, and re- 
morse, that I ceased almost to know right from wrong. 

^‘One morning he came down to our house early. Mrs. 
Standish was out, and I was alone. He held an open letter in 
his hands, and his face was white as death. 

‘Florence,’ he said, ‘you are going to hold a human life in 
your hands — you hold mine. I love you so dearly that I am 
no longer master of myself See ! this letter is a royal com- 
mand. I have to sau for India ten days from to-day. I swear 
I cannot leave you. You are so young, so lovely, that some 
one will assuredly steal you from me while I am away.’ 

“I looked up at him. There were great drops of agony on 
his forehead ; his lips were white and trembling, his handsome 
face marred with pain. 

“ ‘I cannot take you with me,’ he continued. ‘It is on mil- 
itary business I am going, and I dare not refuse this royal com- 
mand, which is the greatest compliment any man in England 
could receive. Florence, you hold my life in your hands.’ 

‘ ‘ I remember that even then I clung weeping to him, and 
asked him to let me send for Hope ; but no, he could not, he 
would not, tell Hope yet. 

“ ‘I will do anything you wish me,’ I said — ‘anything that 
will give you comfort.’ 

“ ‘ I only want to know that you are mine, Florence — that 
no one living on earth can take you from me — that, although I 
am compelled for a short time to leave you, I may know you 
are mine.’ 

“ ‘What can I do.?’ I asked. 

“ Hope, he clasped me in his arms, and whispered : 

“ ‘Be my wife. We can be married, and no one need know 
until I return. Be my wife ; then I shall be happy, and at 
rest. To leave you free, free to be loved or wooed, would mad- 
den me.’ 

‘ ‘ I did not think how selfish such a prayer was. I did not 
think, then, how cowardly and wrong it was to tempt me, a 


LAD V DAMER SECRET. 


375 


child, to such deceit. I only remember that he, kneeling in 
tears at my feet, was my hero, one of England’s greatest men, 
and that he loved me better than life itself. 

‘ ‘ Think what a careless child I was, Hope. I can remem- 
ber saying to him : 

“ ‘But I am not quite seventeen ; I am too young to be any 
one’s wife ; I am only a child.’ 

“I was the loveliest, the fairest of women, he said, and he 
would surround his child-wife with such happiness she should 
never repent being married young. 

“I pleaded that this marriage should be deferred until he 
returned. 

“ ‘No,’ he cried, ‘a thousand times no !’ 

“ If I liked to ruin him, I might; he could not leave me free; 
and, if I would not consent to marry him, he must give up the 
appointment. 

‘‘That I could not bear. 

“‘But how can we be married ?’ I asked. ‘Some one or 
other will be sure to find it out. Oh ! do tell Hope ; send for 
Hope. ’ 

“But the more I prayed for you, Hope, the more he seemed 
to shrink shuddering from the idea. I cannot tell how it was. 
I have no wish to excuse myself, to justify whit I did, but I 
promised at last that I would marry him, unknown to any one, 
before he went to India. 

“ Hope, I thought he would have gone crazed with delight. 
How he thanked and blessed me ! And I thought what a grand 
thing it was for a young girl to have so much power over a great 
and famous man. 

“It was as though fate and fortune conspired to help him. 
Mrs. Standish was suddenly called to Paris to see Helene, and I 
was left at Brighton alone. 

‘ ‘ She wrote to tell you, Hope, that she was going ; but 
he, I shall always think, destroyed, instead of posting, the let- 
ter.” 


376 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRET. 


CHAPTER LXIX. 

THE STORY CONCLUDED. 

There was a short pause, during which Lady Darner seemed 
to be gathering strength for the rest of her story. 

“Karl,” she continued, “there is a terrible saying — where 
did I hear it first? — ‘Those whom God will destroy He first 
blinds.’ I was blinded; nothing else can excuse what I did ; 
blinded by that man’s passionate love, the beauty of romance, 
and my girlish love of what I thought poetical. Nothing else 
can excuse me. 

“ I deceived the sister who had been a mother to me ; I de- 
ceived all my friends. I did what no girl, under any circum- 
stances, should do ; I married secretly, and, ah, me ! ah, me 1 
the punishment falling npon me is heavier than I can bear. ” 

“Tell us all, Florence,” said the grave, kindly voice of her 
husband. 

She looked at him with despair in her eyes. 

“ It is so shameful to tell ; I wish the earth would open and 
hide me. Oh, Karl ! turn your eyes from me — ^you who hav^T 
loved me so — you who have trusted me — my husband, whom 1 
have deceived !” 

“Nay,” said Lord Darner, bending over the golden head 
drooping so humbly, “you have not trusted me with all ycur 
story, Florence, but you have not deceived me; do not say that. 
Now tell me, dear, about this marriage — for your sake, I must 
know whether it be legal or not. ” 

“I know that it was legal,” she said, bitterly; “Thornton 
Marchmount took care of that. I have told you that Mrs. Stan- 
dish; my friend, before she started for Paris, wrote a letter to 
my sister, telling her that I was left in Brighton alone, and that, 


LADY DAMER SECRET. 


377 


if she found herself unable to return in a few days, the best thing 
would be for Hope to fetch me. The letter my lover took to 
post, but Hope never received it.'’ 

“ No,” said her sister, sadly ; “it never came to me.” 

“He destroyed it ; and one evening, Karl, when the sun was 
shining on the sea, until it all looked sapphire and gold, he told 
me he had made every preparation for our marriage on the mor- 
row. I asked him where ; he told me at the little church of 
St. Helen’s-on-the-Hove, that is not far from Brighton. I re- 
member so well that all the night before my marriage I never 
slept. My lover’s passionate words were making wildest music 
in my heart. 

“It was so terribly unreal. There I was, a child, with a 
child’s look on my face, and waiting for me on the morrow the 
most solemn event of a woman’s life ; a child — yet the cleverest, 
and one of the greatest men in England, was dying to make me 
his wife. 

‘ ‘ I remember, Karl, that I sat all night at my window watch- 
ing the starlight on the waves ; they were rising and falling. I 
could hear in their music sometimes a warning, sometimes a re- 
proach, but no word of this horror that has come upon me 
now. 

“I was so- accustomed to rising early and going down to the 
beach, that my doing so on this particular morning caused no 
remark. 

“I remember the morning; it was one of the fairest -that 
ever shone ; earth and sky seemed to have donned their bridal 
attire ; there was a light, both on land and sea, that he told me 
was love’s own smile, and we, while the dew lay on the grass, 
reached St. Helen’s. 

“I remember, Karl, how the clergyman who married us 
looked at me as though surprised at my youth. Thornton 
Marchmount had told him ours was a hurried marriage. His 
housekeeper, Mary Styles, and his coachman, William Bing- 
ham, were our two witnesses. I am sure that he, the minister. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


378 

knew nothing of my husband’s rank or position. "When we went 
into the vestry he said to him : 

“ ^ Your wife is very young ; she looks quite a child ; be gen- 
tle with her.’ 

‘ ‘ Then he shook hands with me, and wished me good-by. I 
read infinite pity in his face. 

“ ‘I have no wife, no children,’ he said to me ; ‘but if ever 
you want a friend, come to me. ’ ” 

“ Is he living still ?” interrupted Lord Darner. 

“ I do not know ; I never tried to know, for when the glam- 
our had fallen from my eyes I was most bitterly ashamed of 
what I had done. 

“ We were married, and my husband said that this our wed- 
ding-day, should be spent at St. Helen’s. 

“Looking back with the calm, cool judgment of a woman, 
I marvel at his selfishness— the one blot on a grand character, 
the one thing that marred a noble and magnificent mind — for it 
was selfishness to induce a child, such as he found me, to con- 
sent to a private marriage, and that privacy merely needed to 
save him from morbid reproach. 

“The first thing after we left the church, he took me to a 
pretty, quaint hotel that overlooked the sea. There was a large 
balcony in the dining-room, and we had breakfast there. It is 
long years ago, yet I remember the perfume of the climbing 
roses and the white flowers of the jessamine. Then I was but 
a child. 

“ I began to cry for Hope to come to me. 

“ ‘Let me write and tell her,’ I pleaded ; ‘she will not be 
angry — she is never angry. ’ 

“The only frown I ever saw on his face came there then. 

“ ‘Florence,’ he said, taking my hands in his, ‘child, try to 
understand me, tiy to understand what my marriage does to 
Hope. 

“ ‘Years ago I loved her, and she loved me; I know she 




LAD V DAMER ’5 SECRET. 


379 


loved me, and I know that while she lives she will never care 
for any other man. 

“ ‘Years ago she would have married me but for you. She 
told me she could give her life to both of us. and that you, a 
helpless child, had the strongest claim on her love. 

“ ‘She gave me up, deliberately renounced all the happiness 
of her life for your sake, and now I confess to you I am too 
great a coward to stab that gentle heart by telling her that I 
have married the young sister for whose sake she gave up the 
happiness of her whole life. 

“ ‘Of all women living I love you ten thousand times the 
best, Florence ; but Hope has the highest claim to my respect. 
I would give you my life if you asked for it , but do not urge 
me to tell Hope.’ 

“ ‘She must know some time,’ I cried, ‘and how can I, who 
never kept one thought from her, how can 1 meet her and not 
tell her this.?’ 

“‘For my sake/ he replied; ‘because I have asked you, 
and all sacrifices are easy for those we love. 

“ ‘Florence, the very first thing that I do, on reaching India, 
will be to write to her. I could not see her and tell her, though 
I have done her no wrong. I could not look in her sweet face 
and tell her that I have found another and dearer love than 
hers. Be content until then — she will not blame you when she 
knows all.’ 

“ ‘And you will write the first thing,’ I said to him, ‘as soon 
as you land in India, that she may know.?’ 

“ ‘Yes; I will not lose one mail. Trust me, Florence; I 
have never spoken untruthfully yet. Now let us forget this one 
trouble, and remember only that nothing in life or death can 
part us.’ 

“We staid at St. Flelen’s until the afternoon. My absence 
caused no remark ; the servants thought only of their own en- 
joyment. 

“ It seemed so strange to go home without him, to take off 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET. 


380 

my wedding-ring and hide it, to remember I was a wife whose 
husband worshiped her. So strange, yet it was all true.'" 

There came a lew cry from Hope Charteris, the cry of a soul 
in pain — pain so bitter that no more of it can be borne. 

“Florence, hush! Do you remember each word is death 
to me 

The unutterable woe in that gentle face, the anguish of the 
voice, made Lady Damer pause and look up at her sister. 

For the first time those motherly arms loosened their clasp ; 
for the first time in her whole life Hope Charteris turned away 
from the sister she had loved with such unwearied love. 

She laid the golden head on the pillow of the couch, and 
folded her arms on her breast, while a deep sob came from her 
lips. 

“That was my only love, Florence, ” she said, “and_y^?z^ took 
it from me. I have been true all my life to a false love and a 
false memory. Oh ! it is hard to bear.” 

But Lady Damer followed her, and knelt at her feet. 

“ You must pardon me, Hope — ^}'Ou must forgive me. No 
death could be so bitter to me as losing your love. ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, my sister I my beloved sister 1 I sinned, I sinned — be- 
fore God I own how grievously I sinned — but my punishment 
is heavy, so heavy, Hope ; and if you turn from me, if you take 
your love away, how shall I bear it t See, Flope, I am kneel- 
ing at your feet. You, who never turned a deaf ear to any 
prayer, will not refuse mine.” 

“ It was my only love,” she moaned again; “I thought he 
had been true to me, Florence, and I thought he would tell me 
so when we met again. ” 


LADV DAMER'S SECRET. 


381 


CHAPTER LXX. 

WHAT CAME OF IT. 

But Hope Charteris could not be untrue to the great love of 
her life. She could not resist the prayer of the sister for whom 
she had sacrificed all that was brightest and best. 

Lady Darner, kneeling there with entreaty, no words could 
describe, in her face, with prayer for pardon on her lips, could 
not remain long unanswered. 

“ Hope, my sister, the only mother, the truest Iriend I have 
^ver known, say you forgive me ; it was because he loved you 
so well, and I loved you so well, that we kept this secret from 
you Oh, Hope, you who are so good, so far above all that is 
earthly, forgive me, a guilty, erring, wretched woman, whose sin 
is just finding her out; forgive me !” 

“Hope,” said Lord Darner, “I add my prayer to my wife’s; 
there is heavy sorrow in store for her ; forgive her, that she may 
have the comfort of your love to help her through.” 

Then Hope relented, the master-passion of her life resumed 
its sway. She bent down and kissed the white, pleading face. 

“I forgive you, Floy. I would forgive you more than that, 
my darling; it was not your fault, you were young and easily 
influenced. I forgive you, as I beg God to forgive me all the 
mistakes of my life, and they have been many.” 

Once more the loving arms infolded her, and the sweet lips 
that had never uttered 'but that one reproach were on her face; 
once more she pillowed the golden head on her breast, and 
Lord Darner said : 

“Finish your story, Florence, I have much to learn.” 

A crimson flush covered her face; her lips trembled. 

“Oh, Karl,” she cried, “if I might but be spared the rest!” 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


382 

She clasped her white hands until the rings she wore made 
great crimson dents. 

“There came a reprieve. My husband did not leave Eng- 
land for five days later than he had first thought of going. 
Mvs. Standish was still absent, and the only wonder I feel now 
is that my husband’s constant presence at the house excited no 
attention. I can only suppose the servants w'ere absorbed in 
their own amusements and thought nothing of me. 

“Then the time came for him to go away. Only God knew 
what he suffered, only God knew the agony of that passionate, 
loving heart. I went with him to the station. I have seen 
grief, but none like his — none. 

“ He held me in his arm, and hot tears fell from his eyes on 
my face ; he kissed my face a thoueand times, with sobs such 
as I thought never came from a man’s lips. 

“ ‘You will not say one word to Hope? promise me, and I 
will write soon. I will write to her before I begin business or 
anything else.’ 

“And I repeated my promise. Hope, that was why, when 
you were as an angel of mercy to me, I could only repay your 
goodness by silence that must have seemed the height of all 
that was ungenerous. Then there comes to me a great blank. 

I can only remember standing beneath a sultry sky with those 
passionate words ringing in my ears, those passionate kisses 
burning on my lips, and he was gone. A great, dull, dreary, 
blank. My secret had not tormented me so much while he was 
there to share it with me, but now the full weight and burden 
fell on me and seemed to crush me to the very earth. 

“There was no one single moment, night or day, during 
which I did nut think it w’ould be discovered. If a louder ring 
than usual came to the door, I started from my seat, thinking 
that it was some one to tell of me. IMrs. Standish returned the 
day after my husband left, but, strange to say, made no com- 
ment on what had happened. The only remark she made was 
to the effect that she supposed it had not been convenient for 


LADY DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 383 

my sister to come to Brighton; and I said, ‘No.’ She hoped 
that I had not been dull, and that the servants had paid me 
every attention, to which I replied, ‘Yes.’ So that danger 
passed. I remained with her three weeks longer, and then 
went back home. 

“Oh, Hope, it was long before I found out my terrible 
secret, and knew that I was not only a wife, but that I should 
soon be a mother. I cannot tell you my agony, because there 
are no words in which such a sorrow could be told. It lay be- 
yond human help, beyond hope, beyond comfort. Looking 
back, I only wonder that it did not kill me — I was so very 
young, so ignorant, so inexperienced. Oh, surely no other 
young girl living ever had a secret so terrible to bear. Then 
you remember, Hope, I went away to visit some friends in the 
North ? Oh, sister, it all comes back to me like some terrible 
dream — the anguish, the fear, the horror, the terror that lay on 
me night and day. I hardly dared to hope that I could keep 
my secret from them. I could not tell what to do, where to 
turn, who to ask for help. I was mad with my misery. 

“Do you wonder that I have so little love for the man whose 
selfish passion brought all this unutterable woe upon me.? Do 
you wonder that I shrink from his memory and from all recol- 
lection of the love that blighted my life as the hot wfind of the 
tempest destroys the flowers.? 

“I was just seventeen. I had been carried off in a whirl- 
wind of passion, married in a dream, hardly realizing what 
marriage meant. My husband had forced from me a promise 
of secrecy, and had gone thousands of miles away; and 1, Hea- 
ven pity me, was to be the mother of a little child. 

“I wrote to him, Hope, such a letter! It seemed to me 
that the tears wrung from my heart were tears of blood. I told 
him that, no matter w'hat happened — no matter whether queen 
or country thought ill or well of him, no matter whether his 
future was marred or not by it — ^he must come back I Worldly 
ruin I that seemed nothing — loss of fame or fortune, that 


3^4 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


seemed less than nothing. He must come back, let the con- 
sequences be what they might. 

“And then — oh, Hope, I must be strong, that the memory 
does not kill me — one day I was sitting alone in the drawing- 
room, and Miss Birchall, the lady I was visiting, came in. She 
had a paper in her hand, that she had been reading. 

“ ‘What a terrible accident this is,' she said, and I looked at 
her, wondering what could be terrible by the side of my own 
great sorrow. I asked her what ? 

“‘An English steamer burned,’ she said, ‘in the Indian 
Ocean, and of all the hundreds on board, there are only four 
men saved.’ 

“ I remember feeling as though some cold, iron hand had 
seized my heart, and held it still. I remember wondering at 
the sound of my own voice as I asked the question, ‘ What was 
the name of the steamer.?’ 

“ ‘The Queen of the Sea,’ she replied. ‘Read the account, 
it is very interesting. ’ 

‘ ‘ I took the paper from her hands, and read how the steamer 
in which my husband had sailed, had been destroyed by fire in 
the midst of the Indian Ocean, and the first name on the list 
of the dead was his, my husband’s, the father of my child. 

“Do not be shocked at me, Hope; Karl, do not turn from 
me. I made up my mind to die. I never thought of anything 
else. There was one refuge for me in my trouble, one harbor, 
and that was death. I said to myself that I must destroy my- 
self before my terrible secret could be known. ” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


3«5 


CHAPTER LXXI. 

"‘worse than death.” 

Hope had forgotten the wrong done to her. She clasped her 
arms more tightly round the drooping figure. 

“My poor Floy,” she said, “how well I remember it all. 
Mv poor sister, what you must have suffered.” 

“Yes,” replied the sad voice, “I sinned, but I suffered, 
Hope. My husband was dead. I was too young, too simply 
childish, to think of proclaiming my marriage. I had kept the 
secret, and I thought it useless to reveal it now. Who would 
believe me? Who would believe that one of the greatest men 
in England had married a child of seventeen, and left her to 
meet the consequences of that marriage alone ? I thought peo~ 
pie would disbelieve me, and that my speaking of it would be 
worse than useless. I often debated within myself how I must 
die ; I was even too ignorant to know how people killed them- 
selves. The only thing clear to my mind was, that die I must. 

“You remember, Hope, I could not die. You know all 
that happened— my illness, and what took place after it. God 
knows that I believed my little baby to be dead, and that I re- 
gretted deeply being alive myself. 

‘ ‘ I kept my secret. I never told one word to Hope, or to 
any living human being. No one knew that I was the widow 
of that Thornton Marchmount, whom all England mourned as 
a hero. 

“Did I love his memory? There was then, there is now, a 
strongly-mixed feeling in my heart over him. When I think 
of his passionate love my whole soul is moved by it. When I 
remember how selfish that love made him my heart shrinks. 

“After I recovered, it was to find a great change in my sis- 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


386 

ter. She was dressed in deepest mourning, and one day when 
I asked her if it was through me that the shadow lay so deep 
on her kindly face, she told me no, that the only one she had 
ever loved had met with a terrible death, and that his death had 
darkened the whole world to her. 

“Then I knew that we two sisters were mourning for the 
same loss ; and I realized for the first time, how great had been 
the deceit that had brought me into so false a position. Long 
after I recovered, I read the details of his death ; he was a hero 
in the true sense of the word, for the papers told how, during 
that whole terrible scene, he stood on deck, the flames hissing 
around him, and the roar of the waves with them ; and he 
helped them all, men, women, and children, to die. He spoke 
brave words, he cheered them, he robbed that terrible death of 
some of its terrors. 

“I knew that in those last hours his thoughts had been with 
me; some sure instinct told me that then, with the light of 
eternity shining on him, he repented of the selfish love that 
had led us both so far from the simple path of truth. 

“After he was dead, too, a letter reached me, one he had 
written on his journey. Then, and for the first time, it had 
occurred to him that the consequences of our marriage might 
be disastrous to me, and he wrote telling me that if any kind 
of trouble came over me, I was to make a friend of his sister. 
Miss Marchmount, who lived at her estate, Hampton Towers. 

“I never thought again of his instructions, there was no 
need. Hope had been my friend — Hope had helped me 
through the dark sea of trouble. My husband was dead ; I 
believed my baby to be dead. There seemed no need to do 
anything now save forget. Why should I, a girl of seventeen, 
go to Miss Marchmount of Hampton Towers and tell her what 
had happened ? I had no proof to give her of my marriage ; 
at seventeen one does not think of marriage certificates or 
copies of registers ; there was no child in England more ignor- 
ant than myself, notwithstanding all that had happened. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


387 


“So my secret was, I thought, buried. I believed that my 
little child lay in its tiny grave — I had no reason to think other- 
wise; and now I know how kind and considerate* Hope was. 

“ I cannot tell what I should have done had I known that 
my child lived ; all my life would have been different. I 
should, in that case, have gone to Miss Marchmount and have 
told her that her brother had left a son ; I should not have mar- 
ried again, and the story of my first marriage' must have been 
made known. Yet, Hope, my sister, you did it for the best; 
you did it to save me and I can thank you now.” 

She turned to her husband, and her head drooped humbly 
before him. 

“Karl, how can I ask your pardon?” she said. “The 
wrong that I have done to you is one that can never be un- 
done. Yet do not think it has been easy. There has been no 
moment, night or day, that my secret has not weighed me to 
the very earth. 

“I have been admired and feted, people have envied me, 
perhaps, my poor beauty, my position, my seeming happiness; 
only God knew how, night and day, day and night, my heart 
was cold with the terror that never left me. 

‘ ‘ Karl, when I came home here to Avonwold, and heard the 
legend of the falling rain drops, I thought the hour of discov^ 
ery was come. 

“It seemed to me that I brought the shadow of shame andr 
disgrace to your unsullied home ; so I have lived with the bur- 
den on me, and it was greater than I could bear. 

“I had a dream once that my secret was known, that it was 
written on every leaf of the forest, and that every bird sang of 
it. Now — now it seems to me that dream has come true.” 

Her clear, sweet voice died away; and Lord Darner stood 
looking at her with unutterable regret and sadness in his eyes. 

The blow to him was terrible. He had loved her with pride 
and passion rarely surpassed He had looked on her as a per- 
fect woman — perfect in fame, in face, in heart, mind, and souL 


LADV DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 


388 

He had believed his wife’s soul to resemble a clear lake, in 
which he could see himself mirrored. He had believed that 
she loved him as few women love — with strength, fidelity, and 
truth. 

There could be no greater blow to him than to know that 
she had loved before she loved him, that she had married be- 
fore she was married to him. 

It was a blow struck at the very root of his love, his pride, and 
hjs honor. 

His kindness of heart and chivalrous nature told him this 
was not the time to show how deep was the wound. If ever his 
wife stood in need of help, it was now. 

“Karl,” she cried, going up to him, “you turn from me — 
you do not speak — ^you cannot forgive me.” 

He took her hands in his. 

“Florence, I forgive you. The only wrong you have done 
to me is in keeping the secret from me when you might have 
told it — ^when you might have trusted me. For that I do not 
reproach you — I pardon it fully, freely, and entirely. If ever a 
wife needed a husband’s love and help, you need mine now. 
You have told me your story ; you have explained to me all 
that seemed mysterious, now tell me, my wife, why were you 
with this young man — what did he want with you ?” 

“ He mistook,” said Lady Darner, quickly; “he had made 
out some of the story, but not all. He believed Hope to be 
the mother of the child born at Riversmead, and she, my de- 
voted, loving, brave sister, had not undeceived him— she had 
nobly taken the whole burden on herself.” 

Lord Darner turned to Miss Charteris, and she never forgot 
the light that came on his face. 

“I know that,” he said. “Even to me Hope would not 
clear herself at your expense. Florence, she is a heroine ; 
there are few sisters like her. ” 

“It seems to me,” said Lady Darner, “that this wretched 


LAD Y DAMER ’ SEC RE T. 389 

young man had already made his terms with Hope. I hardly 
dare to tell you, Karl, what he wanted from me.” 

Lord Darner’s face flushed proudly. 

“Have no fear,” he replied, sadly. “Nothing will surprise 
me now.” 

“ He wrote to me,” she continued ; “he sent me a note, and 
told me that he had a secret of my sister’s in his keeping, and 
that if I valued her fair name I must attend at his request. 
What he had to say to me required the utmost secrecy, and he 
asked me to be at the little gate that led to the coppice, that 
night at ten. Karl, you staid to smoke a cigar with Aubrey Da- 
rner ; I went to my fate. 

“He was at the little gate, and his errand was to threaten to 
expose Hope's secret, as he called it, unless I promised that he 
should marry my daughter, my beautiful, dainty Rose.” 

An exclamation of angry contempt, that sounded like an 
oath, rose to Lord Darner’s lips. 

“Did he presume to carry his insolence so far ?” he cried. 
“ Then I am inclined to say he deserved the death that overtook 
him.” 


CHAPTER LXXII. 

“help me, my son.” 

As Miss Charteris heard the words, her face flushed with in- 
dignation. 

“Florence, did he dare?” she cried. “I can almost say, 
with Lord Darner, that he deserved his fate. He promised me, 
he swore to me, that no word of this secret should pass his lips ; 


390 


LAD Y DAMER ’ S SEC RE T. 


he extorted from me a promise that I would give him a thou* 
sand a year, and it was settled upon him on this one condition, 
that he would never breathe a word that could be supposed even 
to refer to it Yet he told it all to you.'" 

He threatened me that unless I persuaded my husband and 
my daughter to consent to this marriage, he would betray us. I 
do not know if it were real or false, but he affeeted a most vio- 
lent love for Rose." 

“What did you say to him?" asked Lord Darner, and his 
voice sounded sharp and clear. 

“I can hardly remember, i was stupefied, overwhelmed. I 
was bewildered most of all by Hope’s sacrifice, by Hope’s love, 
by finding what she had done for me. I remember that more 
vividly than anything else. " 

“ But of course you denounced his insolence ?" said Lord Da- 
rner, with the same quick impatience in his voice. “ I should 
have slain him ! To dare to raise his eyes to my daughter, to 
my bright, beautiful Rose !" 

“But I did not slay him," she said, gently. “I was over- 
whelmed and bewildered. I can remember laying my face on 
the little gate and sobbing aloud. " 

She paused, and they saw, by the trembling of her lips and 
her hands, how completely the remembrance of that horrid 
scene overpowered her. 

“ Florence, " said Hope, “clear up the mysteiy^ for us — tell 
us how he died." 

“ I do not know," she cried. “If I could give but the faint- 
est guess, 1 would tell you. I have no idea — no more than 
you yourself. I was standing talking to him, and I heard no 
sound. All at once, without one moment's warning, there was 
a shot fired so close to me I thought it was aimed at myself. 
Then he fell against me. I felt the warm blood fall in a shower 
over me, yet I knew no more than you who did the deed. I 
heard no footsteps ; no one Spoke. When the horrible v hirl 


LADY DAMER SECRET. 


391 


of my senses had subsided, I bent down and raised his head, 
then I saw that he was dead.” 

“And no one passed by, or appeared on the scene at all 

“No. I could not even tell you now whether the shot was 
fired from the east or the west — my horror was too great for my 
memory, I cried aloud in my fear, and came back home. I 
was mad with fright.” 

“Oh, Florence ! again, if you had but trusted me — if you had 
but come straight to me — I could have saved you. What did 
you do then .?” 

“ I found my dress, my hands7 all wet with blood.” 

“Did any one see you?” interrupted her husband, quickly. 

“I do not know — I do not remember. Yes, the servant 
who brought me the water must have seen me, I rang for hot 
water, and she came into the room. ” 

A cry of horror from the two listeners showed Lady Darner 
what they feared. 

“I can remember no more,” she said, wearily. “I took off 
my dress ; but I must have forgotten what dangerous testimony 
it gave aguinst me, for I cannot even remember what I did with 
it. A great, dull, blank horror crept over me. The only idea 
clear to my mind is a feverish, terrible dream that I could not 
get the crimson stains from my hands. ” 

Again the two looked at each other, remembering what terri- 
ble evidence the doctor could give of that delirium. 

Lord Darner looked perfectly aghast. 

“My poor Florence,” he said, “what a terrible w'eb you have 
wjoven. Oh, my darling ! how are we to save you, in Heaven’s 
name ?” 

He covered his face with his hands, and something like a sob 
rose to his lips. 

“ How are we to save you ?” he repeated. “ Do you know 
what a terrible chain of evidence there is against you ?” 

“No,” she said, and he saw a terrible silence come over 


392 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


her. ‘^Tell me the worst, Karl ; there cannot be much more 
to suffer/' 

‘ ‘ The worst, my darling ? It is that even now the blood-hounds 
are on the track — there are men waiting to apprehend you for 
the — I cannot say it — for the slaying of this man I" 

‘‘ They believe I murdered him !" she gasped. 

“Yes. The bracelet found on the grass, the dress with its 
terrible stains, the paper with ‘ Lady Darner's secret ' written on 
it, are all stern, terrible witnesses against you. " 

She looked at him with the calm confidence and simple faith 
of a child. 

“I am not afraid," she said. “I am quite innocent. No 
matter what terrible things he may have said to me, the faintest 
thought even of slaying him would never have entered my mind. 
I am innocent. God will protect me ; will he not ?" 

“ Yes," sobbed Hope Charteris ; “have no fear, Florence." 

She was looking at him with calm, clear eyes. 

‘ ‘ Karl, you do not speak. God knows my sins, my folly ; 
but He knows my innocence as well, and He will bring me 
through my peril ; will he not?" 

“Yes, my darling," he replied, laying his hand on her gold' 
en head. 

She looked up at him. 

“Ah, Karl, I understand. Though my innocence be proved, 
and it will be, yet that cannot avert from us the shame and dis- 
honor. 1 see it all. " 

“ We cannot avoid that," he said ; “it must come." 

She had grown suddenly silent, with a quiet despair in her 
face that touched him more than words could have done. 

“ I understand. I am your wife. Lady Darner of Avonwold. 
I bear a name that has never been tarnished. I am the moth- 
er of your children, and yet I must be charged with this foul 
crime. Oh, Karl ! my husband J can you not save me ?” 

“ What the heart and hand of man can do, I will do," he re- 
plied, “Florence, Verner ought to know the truth. I will 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


393 


send him to you. Before anything else on earth is done, that 
should be set straight. I will show you, my darling, how full 
and free is my pardon. My first care shall be yourself; my 
second shall be to see your son restored to his rights. His aunt. 
Miss Marchmount, must know him. Hampton Towers must 
be his." 

She looked the thanks her trembling Bps could not utter. 

*‘I will send him to you," he continued. 

Then she went up to him with clasped hands. 

“ Oh, Karl !” she cried, “ Karl ! do you not think I could be 
saved this terrible ordeal ?" 

‘‘ I will do what I can," he replied. 

But in the depth of his heart he knew all efforts woutd be use- 
less, and that she, the woman he loved, must stand before the 
whole world charged with murder ! 

He found Verner in the drawing-room, looking terribly anx- 
ious and shocked. 

Lord Darner was too true a gentleman to feel anything like 
jealousy of one in his position. 

He went up to him and laid his hand upon the young man’s 
shoulder. 

Verner," he said, ‘*you have heard some little of the truth, 
but not all. Come with me to Lady Darner’s room." 

Without another word they went through the long corridors, 
up the broad, marble staircase, to the very door of her room. 

'‘Go in alone," said Lord Darner ; “it will be best." 

Over that scene let a curtain fall. 

In after years it was to him a dream — a dream of two tender 
won^en, one who seemed all strength and wisdom, while the 
other bent her golden head before him, and prayed him to par- 
don her. 

A dream of sitting with that same golden head on his breast, 
while his mother told over again the story of her life ; then of 
kneeling at his mother's feet while they wept together ; then of 


394 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


sitting down more calmly by her side, while Hope Charteris 
told of the deadly danger that menaced her. 

“ I wonder,’' said Hope, as she looked from one face to the 
other, “ that no one ever guessed her secret, I have never seen 
two faces so exactly alike.” 

They smiled at each other. 

Lady Darner kissed his white brow, murmuring : 

“ My son !” 

And he looked at her with love unutterable shining in his 
eyes, saying : 

“My mother !” 

Suddenly she clasped her hands, and cried : 

“Verner, you must help me. You know I never injured 
your brother. I have never, in my whole life, injured any liv- 
ing thing. I have never even trampled on a worm, much less 
could I deliberately, and with cruel aim, take the life of a man. 
Verner, you must help me, my son ; you must save me.” 

And he, kneeling at her feet, looking in the beautiful white 
face, said : 

“Mother, I will neither rest nor sleep until you are free. 
Have no fear. There shall be no height to which I will not 
climb, no depth to which I will not descend, to help and free 
you.” 


CHAPTER LXXIII. 

ON A CHARGE CF WILLFUL MURDER. 

It was Lord Darner who interrupted that sorrowful kk-a-tete. 
M. Dupre had been to say that time was pressing. 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


395 


‘^It is useless to put olf an evil hour, my lord," he said, re- 
spectfully, but firmly. “I have the warrant here, and it must 
be executed. I am soriy as a man can be, but justice must be 
done." 

But his wife’s prayers were ringing in Lord Darner’s ears ; 
her pale, pleading face in all its passionate beauty rose before 
him. 

‘•lam an English gentleman," he said, “and as such, I can- 
not seek to bribe you ; but tell me, is there anything I can say, 
anything in the wide world I can do to save my wife this crown- 
ing ignominy?" 

No there was nothing. Before the sun set Lady Darner must 
be taken to Newgate on a charge of willful murder. It could 
be very quietly managed for a time, but it must be known in 
the end. 

Lord Darner looked very quietly at the shrewd, keen face. 

“You are making a mistake, Dupre," he said. “Apart 
from all interest I have in the case, I assure you most solemnly 
you are wrong ; Lady Darner is perfectly innocent. " 

“It would be very strange, my lord, if you did not think so,” 
replied the detective. “If you can explain these appearances 
so strongly against her, to the satisfaction of justice, I, for one, 
shall be delighted." 

Lord Darner sat for a few minutes, absorbed in deep thought. 

“I will. tell you all," he said ; “you are thoughtful, clever, 
and may see a way out of the difficulty that I cannot. In any 
case, I pledge you even the salvation of my soul that Lady Da- 
rner is as innocent of this crime as you or I. You shall hear 
every particular. I tell you the story, trusting to your integrity 
to unravel the mystery." 

And then Lord Darner told the story of his wife’s first mar- 
riage, shielding her like the chivalrous gentleman he was, when- 
ever it was possible. The detective listened with an attentive 
face ; not one word escaped him ; bift when it was ended he 
shook his head gravely. 


396 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


“My lord,” he said, simply, “that story only confirms tne 
poor lady’s guilt. Who had so strong a motive as she for put- 
ting him out of the world.? He threatened her, he required im- 
possibilities from her, unless she consented to what was an in- 
sult, he would have betrayed her, branded her fair name. Lost 
for her the esteem, the interest of all who knew her, what so 
likely as that she w'ould wish him dead and out of the way.?” 

“I cannot convince you,” said Lord Darner, quietly. “You 
will find, I am certain, that you are on the wrong track, and no 
one will repent more bitterly than yourself the wrong you } ave 
done to an innocent lady. ” 

“You will find all the world thinks as I do, my lord; the 
story that you believe exonerates Lady Darner, only proven her 
guilt.” 

“Then we will discuss the matter no longer,” said Lord Da- 
rner, rising; “I shall go to London with my wife, and I shall 
leave the task of proving her innocence to abler hands than 
yours. ” 

Monsieur Dupre smiled to himself; it seemed to him only 
natural that Lord Damer should defend his wife; yet how much 
that defense helped to prove her guilt. 

“I will tell her what awaits her, and go with her,” he said. 

On his way to his wife’s room he met Rose. 

“Papa,” she cried, anxiously, “is there anything wrong? 
Everything seems so strange. ” 

He controlled himself by a desperate effort. 

“Nothing, my darling,” he replied, cheerfully, “but I want 
you to order the carriage and drive over to Lady Dysart s to take 
a note for me. ” 

She blushed, smiled, and said she would be ready soon. He 
wrote to the countess : 

“Dear Lady Dysart: — I have not time to tell you what is 
wrong. Pray keep Rose with you for a few day, and keep her 
from hearing any gossip. You shall know more in a few 
days. ” 


LADY DAMER ’5 SECRET. 


397 


He saw Rose start off with a smile. His heart sank ; the 
blood seemed to freeze in his veins as he thought to himself 
what would that fair and beloved child say when she heard her 
mother was charged with willful murder? Would it blight her 
young life ? Lord Dysart was a proud man ; would he let his 
son and heir marry the daughter of one on w'hom so foul a 
charge had rested ? Only God knew. The legend of the pat- 
tering rain drops had not been false after all Slowly, but 
surely, dishonor, shame, and disgrace were coming to Avon- 
wold. 

Then he entered the room where his wife and her son were 
together. No one could have told from his face how deeply the 
iron had entered his soul. 

‘‘Florence,” he said, gently, “lam going to London with 
you. ” 

He said no more, but they understood all that meant. Her 
beautiful fac6 grew even more deadly pale. 

“1 would it were to my grave,” she moaned. “Oh, Karl, 
can nothing be done to save me?” 

No, nothing ; she has sinned, and this was the punishment 
of her sin. It had been long years in reaching her, but it had 
come at last. 

“Verner,” said Lord Darner, “I am glad your mother has 
your aid ; no one knows better than you how uncalled for, how 
unfounded, how absurd is this charge against this dear lady 
whom we all revere and honor. I go with her, I leave her de- 
fense to you ; if you can devise any plan to help her do so ; 
there must be a solution of the mystery that has not yet oc- 
curred to us.” 

“I shall go to Croston,” said Vernen “Poor Rob spent 
his short life there, and there, perhaps, I shall find the key to 
this mystery.” 

> Then the lime trees of Avonwold saw a sight they had never 
before witnessed ; a close carriage drawn up to the grand en- 
trance, the stately, golden-haired mistress closely watched on 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


398 

either side by the grim, silent detectives, her face white as death, 
her lips quivering, her eyes dim wfth unshed tears, her stately 
figure bowed with a sorrow such as the sun had never shone 
upon before. 

Lord Damer looked pale and graved he would have given all 
his broad lands, all his vast fortune, every good gift that had 
fallen to his share a thousand times over to have savr 1 her, and 
he could not. 

There was a long, low shudder among the lime trees as the 
carriage drove away; then each leaf stood still, as though a 
mute, chill horror had fallen over them. 

Isabel Damer watched with eager, curious eyes. 

What did it mean? Where had Lady Damer gone? What 
h’ad happened ? 

Lord Damer had sent hurriedly to ask her if she would take 
charge of the house for a short time while Lady Damer and 
himself were absent — but why was it? 

There had been no mention of such a journey. 

She had caught one glimpse of Lord Darner’s face, and it 
had startled her, there was such white, settled grief upon it. 

How the rumor first arose no one knew, but it spread slowly, 
imperceptibly : 

“Something wrong about Lady Damer.” 

What was it.? — no one knew that People met each other, 
looked very sympathizing and mysterious, then asked each 
other the question : 

“ Have you heard this strange story about Lady Damer?” 

Then when they came to tell the story, every version differed, 
and no one knew quite what was wrong. 

“Something connected with this terrible murder,” said one. 

Another said : 

“No, it was a queer story that had come to light respecting, 
a former marriage.” 

Never had Mrs. Isabel Damer been so incessantly occupied. 


LAD Y DAMER ’ J SECRE T. 399 

The Duchess of Redfern drove over in hot haste, eager, excited, 
happy. 

“Was it true — was there really anything wrong about Lady 
Damer.?” 

To the general disappointment, Mrs. Isabel Darner had noth- 
ing to tell. The murder had been very distressing. Lord and 
Lady Danger, were in London ; she could not say when they 
were, expected back. 

“What was wrong?” 

“Ah, that she could not say. 

The day after that hurried departure, the remains of poor 
Robert Elster were carried to the grave. 

They tell to this day of the wild grief of the mother who was 
his only mourner, how she wept aloud, refusing to be comfort 
ed ; and when the coffin was lowered into the grave, how it was 
with difficulty they could keep her from springing in after it. 
How she cried aloud that God w'ould punish those who had 
done it. who had robbed her of her only son. 

Lord Darner had given orders for the funeral, and while peo- 
ple stood round and praised his generosity, they looked at each 
other somewhat strangely, and said ; 

“What is this story about his wife?” 

Ah, what was it? Ask the whispering limes, whose hundred 
eyes had seen all ; ask the pattering rain drops that so long 
since had foretold wreck and ruin ; ask the bright-faced daugh- 
ter who sat in a strange home, full of silent wonder ; ask the 
wary, watchful kinswoman whose eyes never closed, and whose 
ears were always open. 

They can none of them answer — the mystery still remains — 
no one knows just at present that Florence, Lady Darner, is 
waiting her trial for willful muider. 


400 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


CHAPTER LXXIV. 

VERNER AT WORK. 

The truth soon became known. How it was arrived at no 
one quite knew. The strange rumors, the gossiping stories, 
the dark hints, became clear. The people of and near Avon- 
wold met, and looking with horrified glances, told each other 
that Lady Darner was charged with willful murder. 

There had never been a more terrible sensation. The lovely, 
queen-like woman, who for so many years had ruled the coun- 
ty, and made herself worshiped by her fascinations. It seemed 
incredible. 

Who was the murdered man ? they asked, and the answer 
threw no light on the mystery — “the brother of Lord Dysart's 
secretary. 

What had he in common with Lady Darner.? Why should 
she slay him? What did she know of him? For a short tim© 
the public wondered, talked, invented, and then came some-- 
thing like an inkling of the truth. A story relating to Lady 
Darner’s life before her marriage had come to light, and it con- 
cerned the murdered man. 

The Duchess of Redfern was triumphant. Once more she 
found herself “queen of the county,” seated more firmly than 
ever on the throne from which her rival had so suddenly de- 
scended. 

“I have never been deceived,” said her grace. “ From the 
first moment I saw Lady Darner’s face in my ball-room I have 
had a misgiving. Years prove that my instinct was a right one. 
The whole county has been imposed on.” 

Hope Charteris lay very ill at Avonwold, too ill to follow her 
sister to London, as she would fain have done. The shock had 


jLADV DAMER ’5 SECRET, 


401 


been too great for her. She had spent her whole life in being 
true to a falsehood, and she could not recover the balance of 
her mind and judgment. 

Lord Dysart was one of the first to hear the truth. No letter 
had reached him from London. Lord Darner’s whole time was 
spent in going from one celebrated lawyer to another ; but there 
was little comfort to be derived from them. On hearing the 
whole story, one and all agreed that it looked very bad for Lady 
Darner. 

It had seemed to him, at first, that no one could possibly be- 
lieve it. On the very face of it, it seemed incredible — a gentle, 
beautiful, high-born lady accused of shooting a man down in 
cold blood ; but, to his mingled grief and indignation, those 
who heard the accusation and believed it absurd, looked grave 
when they heard all that preceded it. Lady Darner’s story 
seemed to throw a lurid light on the murder; it supplied the 
motive, which was the one thing needful. 

Lord Darner found that he could procure the cleverest coun- 
sel in England for his wife, that he could get any amount of 
legal help, but he could find few who paid the least attention to 
his protestations of her innocence. 

He was so utterly beside himself that he forgot his promise 
of writing to Hatton Court, where the earl and countess were 
doing their best to keep these unpleasant facts from Rose. They 
could not keep them from Lord St. Albans, who came home 
one day with a flushed face and trembling hands, declaring, to 
their great horror, that he had horsewhipped young Squire 
Dynevor, who had told him that Lady Darner was charged with 
willful murder. Then the earl spoke seriously to his son, tell- 
ing him that he had every reason to believe it was so, and the 
young lord had turned indignantly on his father. 

“Understand me plainly, Archie,” said his father, “I do not 
say the charge is true — Heaven forbid ! I mean it is true that 
such a charge is made.” 

Lord St. Albans was half mad with indignation. 


402 


LAD Y DAMER^S SECRET. 


^‘Whoever could believe such a story must be crazed!’^ he 
cried. Lady Damer would not have taken the life of a bird.” 

His parents begged of him to moderate his anger, lest Rose 
should overhear ; but the day came when RoSe, pale, languid, 
and unhappy, crept down to her lover, and begged of him, with 
raining tears, to tell her what was the matter. 

“It is something over mamma,” she said, piteously. “I 
know that, Archie, because when I mention her name people 
look so queerly at me. What is it ? If every one deceives me, 
you, at least, will tell me the truth.” 

And he, knowing that sooner or later the girl must hear or 
read of it, broke it to her gently. He told her that some stupid 
detectives, who understood anything better than law. had mixed 
themselves up in the business, and had chosen to suspect Lady 
Damer, because she had been seen speaking to the dead man. 

He told her so gently, so carefully, with so much indignation 
at what he called the blunder, his news was robbed of half its 
terror. 

Yet Rose’s lovely face grew very white as she heard it. 

“ Poor mamma !” she sobbed. “Oh, Archie, I am so glad 
Charlie and Alwyn are in Germany. Will it break papa’s heart, 
do you think V* 

“Lord Damer will soon, doubtless, be able to prove that it 
.is a blunder. Then those who have made the mistake must 
pay for it.” 

She looked at him with a helpless sorrow in her eyes he never 
forgot. 

“Archie, does everyone know that my beautiful, innocent 
mother is accused of this horrible crime .?” 

For all answer he took her in his arms, kissed her sweet face, 
and told her it mattered so little that those who knew her moth- 
er best knew how innocent she was, and would but love her all 
the more for this sorrow, so unjustly laid upon her. 

“It will not part us, Archie,” she said, clinging more closely 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRET. 403 

to him. You will not be ashamed of me because this — this 
cloud has been over us V 

“Death itself should not part us, Rose,” he replied; yet, 
even as he said the words, a terrible fear came to him lest his 
parents should consider the disgrace too great to be borne. 

“I shall be true to Rose,” he said, “even if I should be dis- 
inherited for it. ” 

No word did he say to her of the stories respecting her moth- 
er s first marriage — that he left Lord Darner himself to do. He 
was a blind partisan of the beautiful mistress of Avonwold. Sup- 
posing she had* been married, and had chosen to keep her 
marriage from the world, did it matter to any one save her- 
self? 

So Rose was spared the worst of the blow. 

Archie devoted himself to her ; he spent his whole time with 
her, and those who evinced any disposition to tease the young 
girl, soon found themselves objects of profound hatred to the 
future Earl of Dysart. 

Robert Elster lay in his grave now, and his mother was still at 
the keeper’s cottage. 

On the day of the funeral she had resolutely taken to her 
bed, and refused to leave it. Sorrow had woefully changed the 
comely, pleasant, kindly woman ; she was brooding, sullen, 
and gloomy. The doctors who attended her looked grave, and 
talked about insanity. 

Verner had gone to perform the duty intrusted to him. His 
mother’s voice was always in his ears — “Save me, my son ! ” — 
and he had sworn to himself that he would either save her or 
die with her. 

He went to Croston, believing that, as Rob had spent his life 
there, there, too, would the key of the mystery be found. His 
heart ached as he looked at the desolate cottage, and remem- 
bered how kindly a home it had been to him. There was the 
pretty, quaint, old-fashioned garden where he had written his 
first poem. He remembered Jane Elster’s face as she had list- 


404 


LAD Y DAMER ’ ^ SECRE T. 


ened to it, and his heart ached at the desolation that had laid 
her life waste and bare. 

As he stood in the sunny garden, there came to him strange 
and solemn thoughts — what a wonderful power sin or evil is ; 
where did the consequences of even one sin begin or end ? Un- 
born generations might suffer for it — the innocent did always 
suffer. How many people, once bright and happy, were made 
wretched by this sin. Strange, solemn thoughts, that, young 
as he was, made him bare his head reverently beneath the silent 
skies, and pray God to keep him from sin and evil. 

They came flocking round him, the neighbors, who had al- 
ways liked him best of the two brothers. They had so much 
to ask. Rumors of the* tragedy had reached Croston, but not 
its details ; and he stood in the midst of the kind-hearted crowd 
telling them how poor Robert had been shot in the quiet of a 
summer’s night, and how the shock had almost driven his 
mother mad. 

Loud and bitter were the comments. Rob had been no fa- 
vorite among them, but it was cruel to hear how he had been 
shot down like a dog, without time for one prayer. 

“Kate Repton may well look so ill,” said one woman to an- 
other. “I could not think what had come. over her.” 

And Verner, hearing the words, turned to her. 

“Who,” he said, “is Kate Repton? What had she to do 
with my brother ?” 


CHAPTER LXXV. 

“who is KATE REPTON?” 

So many voices answered his question, it was with difficulty 


405 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 

i 

that he could understand. “Who was Kate Repton V* “ Did 
he not know?" “Had he never heard?" “Kate was farmer 
Repton s daughter, supposed to be, without exception, the hand- 
somest girl in Croston, and she was engaged to be married to 
the dead man.” 

Then he remembered having laughed one day at what his 
brother had said about some pretty girl down in the country, 
whom he was going to marry. Light, foolish, boasting words, 
to which he had paid but little attention at the time ; now they 
returned to him with significant force. 

Lady Darner had kept nothing from him. She had told him 
that Robert had demanded the hand of her daughter Rose as 
the price of his silence. How could that be, if he were in very 
truth engaged to marry Kate Repton ?" 

“Was not the engagement broken off?" he asked the woman 
who had spoken first. 

No one knew. It would not be safe, they thought, for any one 
to play at fast and loose with Kate Repton. 

Young Robert Elster had been very queer in his ways for 
some time — he had given himself great airs, and had come into 
money ; but no one had heard anything about the engagement 
being broken. 

Verner pondered long and anxiously on these words. If 
Rob was really engaged to this country beauty, how could he 
ask to marry Rose Darner ? Did the solution of the mystery 
lie here ? 

He resolved to go down to the farm and see the girl him- 
self. 

The July sun shone rich and warm on the clover meadows, 
the wheat was growing ripe, the hedges were all one mass of 
brilliant bloom, the birds were singing as though summer and 
sunshine would never end, when he walked through the fields 
to farmer Repton's house. 

He did not remember that he had ever seen this village 
beauty in any of his visits to Croston, and he found himself 


4o6 lady damer^s secret. 

wondering what she was like, if poor Rob had really loved her, 
and whether she had cared for him. 

Then he started as his eyes fell upon a picture that he had 
never forgot. 

A long, low stile that led into a field where the corn stood 
ripe and golden, a stile that was shaded by tall, green maple 
trees, while luxuriant wild-flowers grew round about it, and 
tall, green giass at times almost hid it from view — a little poem 
in itself, an artist would have made of it a most exquisite pic- 
ture. 

Against the stile stood the silent, solitary figure of a young 
girl. She was leaning over the rail, looking, with wild, vacant, 
dreamy eyes, into the corn-field ; but such a face as that Verner 
had never seen — so wild, so white, so woe-begone ; young, yet 
without the light and beauty of youth; beautiful, yet dreary, 
ghastly, and awful to look at. 

He stood quite silent for a few minutes, looking at her as he 
would have done at some picture, wondering at the dark, gipsy 
beauty, the dark eyes, and wealth of black hair. Could this be 
Kate Repton, the farmer’s daughter.? If so, what awful blight 
had fallen over her? Was it sorrow for Rob’s death that 
had made her face so terrible to see ? He walked up to the stile, 
but the vacant, dreamy expression did not leave her eyes — she 
did not see him. 

A long, low cry came from her lips when he spoke to her. 
She started back, and her face grew even more ghastly white. 

“I know you,” she cried; “you are Rob Elster’s brother. 
What do you want with me ?” 

Verner raised his hat, and looked keenly at the white, ghastly 
face. 

“I have been told to-day. Miss Repton, ” he said, “of the 
relation in w'hich you stood to my poor dead brother. I 
thought I should like to see you, for his death is a great mys- 
tery to me. ” 


LADY DAMEI^'S SECRET. 


407 


“You are not speaking the truth,” she replied, brusquely; 
“you are here on another errand ; what is it?” 

And, looking at her, he read fear in her face. 

That moment — he could not explain why, what gave him the 
idea, what caused it to flash so suddenly through his mind — 
as he looked at her, as he noted the white face, the wild, fright- 
ened eyes, a sudden conviction came over him that it was she 
who had killed his brother^ and not Lady Darner. But how was 
he to find out the truth ? 

“We are in great trouble,” he said, simply. “Have you 
beard how dangerously ill poor Rob’s mother lies?” 

“No,” she replied, sullenly, “she had not heard that.” 

“It was a terrible thing,” he continued ; “it was an awful 
shock to us all. Who would have believed that one so light- 
hearted and careless as Rob had so deadly a foe ?’’ 

“He was not careless; he was a mean, scheming, false- 
hearted villain !” 

“ Hush ! hush ! pray be silent — remember he is dead. I — I 
thought you loved him. Miss Repton.” 

“ I loathed him !” she replied. “ He was false, treacherous, 
deceitful ; he was a mass of selfishness !” 

“He is dead,” said Verner, sorrowfully; “spare him.” 

“It is not in my power to spare him,” she retorted; “if it 
were, I would not.” 

“He loved you, did he not?” asked Verner, gravely. 

“No; he deceived me!” she replied. Her face flushed 
proudly, her eyes flashed fire. “ He deceived me I and I have 
the blood of the old Romany race in my veins ; they never for- 
give an injury ; they never pardon a foe.” 

“Will you tell me how Rob deceived you?” he asked. 

A sudden gleam of suspicion came in her face. 

“ No 1 Did I say he had deceived me ? I tell my secrets to 
no one ; they are my own, safely guarded. If he deceived me, 
it lies between himself and me.” 

“His death is a great mystery to me,” said Verner. “May 


4o8 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


I sit down, Miss Repton, and tell you all the unspeakable an- 
guish it has caused ?” 

She offered no objection, and they sat down together on the 
green clover-bank. 

“ I have read many stories of sorrow and desolation,” he said, 
“but none that approach the grief that lays waste Avonwold.” 

He saw a lurid-red light flash in her eyes at the mention of 
the name Avonwold. 

She laughed a bitter, contemptuous laugh. 

“Your brother had grown aristocratic,” she said; “he had 
fallen in love with some of those fine ladies at Avonwold. 
One of them — ^young, and with golden hair — liked him, I 
suppose 

“No,” said Verner, gravely, “there was no one at Avonwold 
who cared for him ; that was quite a mistake. Shall I tell you 
the truth of what happened at Avonwold ?” 

“Yes,” she replied, drearily ; “if there be anylruth in the 
world, I should like a little of it.” 

“At Avonwold there lives a noble, honorable, beautiful lady. 
In her youth she was very unhappy — so unhappy that, if you 
knew her story, you would pity her. She married privately, un- 
known to her friends. She had bitter sorrows to endure. Rob- 
ert Elster, by dint of scheming and maneuvering, by dint — I 
must use the words — of fraud and cunning, found a clew to 
this secret. ” 

“I remember, ” she said, drearily; “he told me it would 
bring him a fortune. ” 

“So it did, but he was not content. From one unhappy 
lady he had positively obtained a thousand a year, on condition 
that he kept the secret.” 

Again the red flush on her face and the lurid light in her 
eyes. 

“He never told me,” she said. “He promised that, when 
his fortune came, he would marry me, and I should have dress- 


LAD Y DAMER 'S SECRET. 


409 

es and jewels, carriages and horses. He never even tolcf me 
that it had come.” 

“ He was not content, "continued Verner, gravely. “From one 
sister he obtained this promise of a thousand a year ; from the 
other he asked something more precious still, the hand of her 
only daughter, a young and beautiful girl, whose whole heart is 
given to her own lover. ” 

‘ ‘And did she not care for him .? I — I thought she liked 
him too.” 

“No; she held him, I should say, in sovereign contempt. 
Now, see how cruel is Ijhe web fate has woven round this lady. 
Robert Eister wrote to her, telling her he knew her secret, and 
that if she wished to keep it she must meet him at ten o'clock 
at night at a certain place. You can imagine how unpleasant 
this was to Lady Darner. She went, and, when she was there, 
he threatened her that unless she promised him faithfully he 
should marry her daughter he would betray her secret to every 
one. ” 

Kate Repton laughed a bitter, scornful laugh that curdled his 
blood as he listened. 

“Fine ladies should not have secrets; it is very unpleasant 
for them,” she said, mockingly. 

“Listen. She refused indignantly; and, while so refusing, 
he was shot down dead at her feet ! Imagine the horror of it — • 
without one moment's warning, without mercy, shot dead I ” 


CHAPTER LXXVI. 

THE ROMANY RACE. 


A little cry came from Kate Repton 's lips as he continued. 


410 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“ Lady Darner was standing near him — near as I am to you 
— and poor Rob’s warm life-blood fell over her dress and her 
hands, forming a terrible witness against her. I cannot tell you 
all that followed, only that Lady Darner, who was innocence 
itself, is in prison now, charged with his murder ! and a more 
false or cruel charge never was made. ” 

^‘He died in the midst of his falsehood,"” she said, trium- 
phantly. 

“Yes ; to leave a darker charge of falsehood behind. I wish 
I could paint the misery of Avonwold to you. Lord Darner is 
a loyal English gentleman, proud, upright, and just ; on his 
name there has never rested a stain ; he knows his wdfe is inno- 
cent, but he cannot prove it, the mute evidence of her blood- 
stained dress is so strong against her. Think what they must 
suffer — the unrnerited shame, the disgrace. Think of the blight 
on the life of that fair young girl, who never wronged any one. 
Think of her broken heart. Never in my life have I read, of 
such terrible consequences as those which seem to follow Rob- 
ert Elster’s death. They are so tragic, so sad, that if a lie were 
not a sin I would go to-morrow and give myself up as a prisoner 
to save the noble and beloved lady, who never harmed poor 
Rob.” 

She looked up at him uneasily. 

“Why do you say all this to me? What has it to do with 
me?” 

“You know best,” he replied. “ I cannot tell you what I 
suspect. I know Lady Darner never injured poor Rob ; but I 
— I cannot say the same for you. I have heard and read how 
fierce is the old Romany blood. I know the Romany w’omen 
are quick to avenge, quick to punish. I know the blood runs 
like lava-tide in their veins. They are fierce, but not false ; 
they are revengeful, but not mean ; their faults, like their vir- 
tues, are grand, not small. I can imagine a Romany woman 
taking her revenge, but I cannot fancy that same woman screen- 
ing herself at the expense of another.” 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. ' 


4H 

She threw back her head with a gesture of proud disdain. 

“You are right/' she said ; “the Romany women are proud 
and vengeful, but not mean. ” 

Then the same uneasy quiver passed over her face. 

“ But why — tell me why you say all this to me.?" 

“Have I no cause.? Rob did not die by Lady Darner's 
hand, and you are the only person living whom he has injured. 
You are quick to avenge and to strike, but not mean. You 
would not let another suffer for what you have done." 

“Who says I have done anything.?" she asked. 

“I do. I cannot tell you why. I have no proof that my 
suspicions are correct ; they may be quite false. I can only 
throw myself on your generosity, and say, if you did this deed, 
for Heaven’s great sake do not let another suffer in your place." 

“Who says that I did it?" she repeated. 

“I alone in all the world say so, and think so I It comes to 
me clearly as a revelation. Rob loved you ; he deceived you 
by trying to desert you when he became what he considered a 
gentleman, and you, true Romany that you are, revenged your- 
self! I can almost fancy that you tracked him from Croston 
here to Avonwold, and found him talking to Lady Darner, and 
that then, mad with anger, you shot him ! Was it so ?" 

He could have knelt to ask her the question ; his eyes were 
fixed on her face with a passion of entreaty no words could de* 
scribe. 

“ I would give my life," he said, “if you would tell me the 
truth. I would give my life. " 

She laughed recklessly. 

“Suppose all you say should be true, then I lose my life." 

“ There are things that noble-minded women value more 
highly than life, A Romany woman values her fair name more, 
ten thousand times, than all that life can give her. Were I 
pleading with a cold, calm Englishwoman, I should have but 
little hope. I am pleading to one of the generous, reckless, 
fiery race who never yet counted the price of a deed. Kate 


412 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


Repton, in the name of the most high Heaven I charge you, if 
you did this deed, tell me, by the name and honor of your race, 
by the hope that even the greatest sinner has of Heaven, are 
you guilty or are you not ? If so, be true to Heaven, to your- 
self; save the innocent; let that lady go free, in Heaven’s 
name !” 

His voice sank into a deep, smothered sob, all the agitation 
and emotion of the day previous seemed to overpower him, and 
he wept aloud. 

She came quietly up to him and knelt down by his side. 

“You are a good man,” she said. “ I wish — how I wish — 
that I had loved some one like you. I will tell you the truth, be- 
cause you have asked me. I could not have lived much long- 
er, for, in spite of all, I loved Rob. No one will believe me, 
but I loved him. I — I killed him, and no one else ever had 
the thought to wrong him ! ” 

He raised his face, and, looking at her, said : 

“You are so young — Heaven help you ! — so young.” 

“ I was not too young to avenge myself, ’’she said, “and you 
shall find that lam old enough to suffer.” 

* ‘ But I cannot ask you to deliver yourself up to justice, ” he said, 

* ‘ you are so young, and the penalty is so terrible. ” 

“No more terrible than life,” she moaned. “I did love 
Rob ; the sun has never shone for me since he deserted me. I 
do not care to live ! I have avenged myself, and Rob is dead !* 
I did not think of all this when I did it ; I only thought of ven- 
geance on him, to slay him where he stood, to kill him in the 
very flush of his crime. Whether I should be found out or not 
was a matter of perfect indifference to me — it never even crossed 
my mind. All you say is true. From the first moment I knew 
he had deserted me, I was determined that no one should take 
my place. I could not find out his secret. He came here to 
Croston, dressed handsomely, with plenty of money, and I was 
taunted by people saying that he had forgotten me. We had a 
desperate quarrel. I asked him to prove his sincerity by marry- 


LADY DAMER 'S SECRET. 


413 

ingf me at once. Ke refused, and then I swore vengeance. I 
followed him to Avonwold ; watched him as he stood by the 
gate waiting for Lady Darner ; I watched him while he stood 
talking to her, taking steady aim at him the whole time. I 
heard them speaking of some girl he loved, and I did not un- 
derstand — I fancied Lady Darner was willing — I must have mis- 
understood her words. He said something that raised my quick 
blood to a flame ; I fired — and he fell ! 

“When I heard the deed was laid to Lady Darner’s charge, I 
was glad, not sorry. It seemed to me that I had killed two ene- 
mies instead of one. 

“ I see differently now. She shall not suffer for my crime. 
I will go to London with you and suffer for my sins.” 

He looked at her with eyes full of tears. 

“You will consult your father or your friends first,” he 
said. 

“ My father expects it,” she said. “I told him yesterday 
that I had killed Rob Elster. ” 

The dreary tone of the voice, the dreary, ghastly look on the 
young face, contrasted so mournfully with the summer sun- 
shine, that his heart, despite her crime, was filled with unutter- 
able pity. 


CHAPTER LXXVH. 

“l AM GUILTY.” 

The 2 130 train from Croston is on its way to London, and in 
a first-class carriage sits Verner Elster and his companion, a 
young girl with surely the dreariest and most ghastly face upon 
which the sun ever shone. 


414 


LADY DAMER’S SECRET. 


He has taken tickets and bought papers ; he has placed a rug 
comfortably for her, and seems solicitous that she should have 
all needful for her comfort; but she makes no reply to his kind 
remarks. Her dark eyes never lose their weird, ghastly expres- 
sion. She never moves them — looking neither to the right nor 
the left — never hearing one of the kindly words that he ad- 
dresses to her. 

People glancing at that window as the train hurries by, must 
have thought them a singular contrast — the girl’s face so dreary, 
so hopeless, with so strange a blight on its young beauty; his, 
so kind, so pitiful, so intensely sad. 

They rode in silence for some time, then she pushed the 
dark hair back from her brow, and looked vaguely at him. 

“Where are we going?” she asked ; “it has all gone out of 
my mind. ” 

She glanced at him with such a vague, dreary expression in 
her eyes, that he saw she was speaking the perfect truth. She 
had, for the moment, forgotten eveiy-thing. 

“To London,” he replied, slowly. “You are going to clear 
an innocent lady unjustly accused.” 

“Ah ! it comes back to me now. I am going to give myself 
up to trial and death !” 

There was infinite pity in the beautiful face turned to her. 

“ How sad it is. I cannot bear to think of it. I would to 
Heaven we could wake up and find it all a dream. ” 

“A dream,” she repeated, vacantly. “Who said to me once 
that dreams were the mercies of life ? I have never slept or 
dreamed once since Rob died.” 

“I have never told you anything about it yet,” she contin- 
ued. 

“ Do not, poor girl ; I might have it all to repeat to your dis- 
advantage, and I have no wish to play the spy. ” 

Her face flushed red 

“You are not a spy. If men were all like you, I should not 
be sitting here a murderess. I will tell you. I shall hide 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T, 4 1 5 

nothing from those who have a right to know. I loved Rob ! 
Heaven help me, I loved him." 

“I am sure of that," said Verner, sympathizingly. “God is 
very merciful ; quite unlike me. He knows your crime, but 
He knows, also, the provocation." 

“I was urged to it," she said, drearily. “You calm, cold 
Christian people, who have been brought up by laws and cere- 
monies, who are never fierce, wild, or original, you know noth- 
ing of the familiar devil always whispering to us. I loved Rob. 
He sought me when I had plenty of lovers, and I did not seek 
him. He was handsome, in my eyes, at least. He loved me, 
and wooed me as we Romany women loved to be wooed. " 

She paused, and it seemed to him that wave after wave of 
memory swept over that desolate heart. 

“I warned him often that he might trifle with the girls in 
the village, who would trifle again ; but that if it came to tri- 
fling with me, it was as serious as though he placed his head in 
a lion’s mouth. I warned him, but he would not take the 
Warning. I begged of him, if he did not mean to be true to 
me for life, to leave me quite alone. He only laughed. He 
made me love him. I did love him." 

She repeated the words with a low wail that made him shud- 
der. 

‘ ‘ My father used to tell me that Robert Elster held himself 
above me, that I had better learn to care for any of the young 
farmers around than for him. I was only angry at such words, 
and scofled at them. 

“Rob promised me that I should be a lady; that I should 
have dresses and jewels. He said we should be so happy, lead 
such a pleasant life, be rich, prosperous, and have no care. I 
believed him, and though I loved him for himself, I was not 
unwilling to think how grand it would be to be a lady. 

“All at once I saw a change come over him ; he took to 
wearing fine clothes and jewelry ; he took to scorning me. He 
W’ent away from Croston, he was long absent, and never came 


416 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


near us. He never wrote but once, and then his letter was all 
about the grand ladies and gentlemen he met in London, and 
then, when he came back, I saw that he had ceased to care for 
me ; that he only looked upon me as something in his road — a 
burden he would like to have got rid of. There is no hiding 
the truth from a jealous woman. I saw that he was ashamed 
of me, and wanted to be free. I did as my Romany blood 
prompted me to do. I asked him to keep his promise and 
marry me at once ; he laughed scornfully at the notion, then I 
knew that he would never marry me at all. 

“My father talked tome, my girl friends mocked me and 
told me I could never keep the love of one like Rob Elster ; 
they drove me almost mad between them, and I determined to 
wreak my vengeance on his head. 

‘ ‘ I followed him when he went away, unseen and unknown, 
I traveled with him in the same train, and I never lost sight of 
him for one moment ; wherever he went my hot, jealous eyes 
followed him. I tracked him to Avonwold Park, and I saw 
that he was there to meet a beautiful, golden-haired woman, 
who yet seemed to shudder and shrink from him. I could not 
hear all they said, only that he was urging some marriage. I 
must tell you that before I left Croston, I purchased a re- 
volver. 

“There can be no difficulty in proving my guilt,” she con- 
tinued, with a faint, bitter smile. “I bought it at Nortons in 
Sloan street, and they laughed at the notion of my making such 
a purchase. When it had served its purpose I flung it into what 
they call Lily Pool, a sheet of water near Avonwold ; it can be 
found there now, to give mute evidence against me. 

“ I tried hard to overhear all that he said to the lady, who I 
now know was Lady Darner. I listened. I drew near as I 
could without being seen in the moonlight, but I could not 
distinguish what they said, until Rob Elster, the man who . had 
promised to marry me, the man who had won my heart, the 
man whom I loved, said aloud, so that I could not fail to hear 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 417 

him, that he did not know whether, in his altered circumstances 
he should find me good enough to be his servant. 

‘ ‘ Those words maddened me, I fired at him in one moment, 
and saw him fall dead at Lady Darner’s feet. If she had 
thought to look for me she must have found me, if she had 
thought of giving an alarm I must have been discovered, but 
from my hiding-place in the moonlight I saw that she was be- 
side herself with horror. 

“I saw her kneel down by the dead man’s side, raise his 
head, and let it fall again with a cry that rang through the clear 
summer air like an accusation ; then she fled away, but not be- 
fore I had seen that her white hands and her costly dress were 
crimson with his life-blood. 

“I did not care whether they found me or not. After she 
had gone I crept out of my hiding-place, and went to where my 
dead lover lay. 

“Ah, me! the clay-cold face, the deadly lips, the closed 
eyes. Ah, me 1 my lost, dead, murdered love 1 I lay down by 
his side ; I lay there for some hours, and then I bade farewell 
to life. I lived long years in those few hours. 

“No one came to see what had happened. The long night 
wore away, the stars died out, a rosy gleam shot through the 
skies, and yet no one had discovered anything of the dead 
man. 

“The birds began to sing, the flowers opened, and no one 
came to see what had happened. I kissed his dead face, I 
looked my last at him, and in the cool, gray morning light I 
stole away. 

‘ ‘ No suspicion ever attached itself to me — I was not noticed, 
yet I could not leave the spot. I knew they had carried him to 
the keeper’s cottage, and I lingered around there. I saw his 
mother, and the detectives, who think they have made so re- 
markable a discovery. 

“Then I knew all the blame would fall upon Lady Darner, 
and it pleased me to think she should suffer. 


4i8 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


“It does not please me now, as my mind has recovered its 
balance. I do not care to live ! Life without Rob has not a 
charm for me. I would sooner be dead than living. I did not 
try to keep my secret from my father; I told him I- had shot 
Rob Elster dead, and I told him that I was going to London to 
pay a life for a life. ” 


CHAPTER LXXVIII. 

MONSIEUR DUPRE AT FAULT. 

London at last, and Verner did not know what to do or 
where to go ; he was uncertain which was the proper course to 
pursue. At last, he thought of going direct to Lord Darner’s 
town house, as the chances were he should find him there. 

He was there. The servant who opened the door was sur- 
prised to see Mr. Elster and a lady in a cab. Verner asked at 
once for Lord Darner. 

“He is at home,” replied the man, “.but my lord is in deep 
trouble, and sees no one. ” 

“He will see me,” said Verner, “if you tell him that I have 
brought news.” 

But when, after an interval of some minutes, he was shown 
into the library where Lord Darner sat alone, Verner hardly 
recognized him. 

The handsome, patrician face was ghastly in its livid despair ; 
there were deep circles round the eyes that told of dreary watch- 
ing and woe ; the courtly ease and grace that had distinguished 
him had given way to a depression and languor that words could 
never describe. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


419 

He looked up as Verner entered the room, but no smile 
came to the haggard face. 

“I have brought news for you, Lord Darner,” said the young 
poet. “Lady Darner’s good name will be cleared.” 

“It is too late for anything now to save the name of Darner; 
there is not a paper in London that has not some version, either 
right or WTong, of this affair. I have been to every lawyer of 
eminence in the city, and not one gives me the least hope of 
ever being able to clear my wife. ” 

“She will be cleared; for I have here with me, in this very 
houwse, the person who did the deed !” 

Lord Darner sprang from his seat. 

“Is it true.? Can it be true? Oh, thank Heaven! The 
one who did the deed ! Who is it? Tell me quickly — I can 
ill bear suspense.” 

“A young girl — the girl Robert Elster loved, asked to be his 
wife, and forsook. You must pity her. Lord Darner, she is but 
young, and she loved him so dearly that she went mad, I be- 
lieve, when he deserted her.” 

‘ ‘ I can never forgive her the wrong she has allowed to fall on 
me and mine. Where is she? Let me see her.” 

But no word of reproach came from his lips when he saw the 
white, rigid despair of the young face that should have been so 
beautiful. 

She looked up at him as he entered the room. 

“/ shot Robert Elster!” she said, simply. 

“Poor child !” he murmured to himself; “poor, unfortunate 
child ! Driven from love to despair, from despair to madness 
and murder !” 

“I hope they will not keep me alive long,” she said, drearily. 

“I do not know whether I shall see Rob in another world, but 
I am quite tired of this.” 

“Is it. your wish to give yourself up as guilty of this mur- - 
der?” asked Lord Darner. 

“Yes. You will know what is to be done better than I do,” 


420 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET, 


she replied. I only wish it were all over, and 1 A^as asleep in 
death.” 

She never spoke again after those few words. She sat quite 
still while Lord Damer sent for Monsieur Dupre. It was hard- 
ly in human nature to refrain from showing some slight triumph 
over that astute detective. 

“I told you you were on the wrong track, Monsieur Dupre, 
but you would not believe me. I should have thought any 
man’s common sense would have kept him from the error into 
which you have fallen. Lady Damer could just as soon have 
been guilty of theft as murder.” 

“Well, my lord, appearances were strongly against her.” 

“A clever detective, I think, is seldom guided by appear- 
ances, ” said Lord Damer, curtly. ‘ ‘ I shall never trust to them 
again. ” 

“Nor I,” thought Monsieur Dupre to himself; “I could 
have sworn my lady was guilty. ” 

He was too kind-hearted to be disappointed, but the failure 
of his professional instinct did not make him the more gentle 
to his young prisoner. 

“Who brings the charge against you.?” he asked. 

“No one; I charge myself,” she replied, and she told him 
at once every detail of the tragedy. 

“You do not seem to be afraid of being found guilty,” he 
said. 

“No; I care only to die, not to live,” she replied. 

“You will in all probability have your wish ; you have gone 
the right way to secure it. To think,” he added, regretfully, 
“that the revolver was in the Lily Pool, about the only sheet of 
water we did not search. ” 

There was little difficulty in committing Kate Repton for 
trial, her story was so straightforward. The revolver was found 
where she had said it was ; the people who had sold it corrobo- 
rated her story ; the motive was well understood — revenge and 
jealousy. There never was a more complete or clearer case. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


421 


Nor was there much difficulty in obtaining Lady Darner’s re- 
lease. Lord Darner would insist upon Verner himself taking 
her the news of her freedom. 

“It is all owing to you,” he said. “You found the clew, 
and you have followed it up. You have saved the lady I call 
wife, and you call mother, from degradation too deep for words. 
You have saved her, in very truth, from death !” 

And for his reward Verner was the first to tell his mother that 
the evidence — seemingly so strong — against her was all false, 
and that she was free. 

How she fell weeping on his neck, how she blessed him and 
thanked him, can better be imagined than described. 

“To think that you, my son, should save me!” she cried. 
“You, whom I have mourned as dead for so many years!” 

Monsieur Dupre looked somewhat sheepish and ashamed of 
himself as he stood aside to let Lady Damer pass. 

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he said; “it was a profes- 
sional mistake.” 

“One that may teach you a useful lesson,” she replied. 
“ You did your duty — I can blame no man for that.” 

That same evening Lady Damer spent in her luxurious man- 
sion with her husband and son. Kate Repton spent it in New- 
gate. 

They talked much about her, both before and after the trial. 
She was so young, gifted with such wild, untamed beauty, her 
manner of speech was so different to every one else, her love of 
life so entirely gone, her desire for death so great. 

“Rob is dead !” seemed to her reason sufficient why she her- 
self should wish to be dead too. 

The trial of Kate Repton for the willful murder of Robert 
Elster attracted the attention of all England. It was a strange, 
wild, fieiy romance — it lacked none of the elements of a great 
tragedy. The only thing that the general public did not under- 
stand was Lady Darner’s share in it, why she had been thought 
guilty, and what she had to do with Robert Elster. The annals 


422 


LADY DAMER'S SECRET. 


of those days go on to say how all that could be done to save 
poor Kate was done. The first lawyer in England, struck by 
her wild, dark, gipsy beauty, and by her sad story, undertook 
her defense. To try to prove her innocent was useless — there 
was no such chance left, her confession of guilt had been too 
ample and too open. He did what many clever men do under 
the circumstances, he made her out insane. 

There were neighbors in plenty to swear that she had always 
been unlike other people — wild, fierce, and revengeful. There 
were others to tell the stoiy of her Romany mother, and the in- 
heritance she had left to her. Perhaps her youth, and worn, 
haggard beauty touched both judge and jury; the judge cer- 
tainly summed up in her favor, and the jury pronounced her 
of unsound mind. Unsound indeed, if jealousy, if hot hate, 
if wild desire for revenge, if reckless disregard of life be insanity. 

Sentence — To be confined during her majesty’s pleasure. All 
England agreed wdth it. No 'one could fancy the girl was in her 
right mind ; and if any one did fancy so, they would say noth- 
ing that could lead a girl of nineteen to the scaffold. 

For the scaffold loomed before . her red and terrible. Did 
she regret it.? Would she rather have died than have entered 
that gloomy prison-house, the portals of which she was never 
to cross again ? Did she regret that she had given up her own 
life to clear another .? Did she regret that she had yielded to 
that murderous desire of revenge? Who shall say? From the 
time that ponderous door closed behind her she disappears 
from the pages of our story, even as she disappeared from the 
living world around her. 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


423 


CHAPTER LXXIX. 

MARCHMOUNT TOWERS. 

The terrible ordeal was passed, and once more Lady Darner 
was at home at Avonwold. What was the price she paid 
for her folly and her secret ? A price let no one think to es- 
cape. 

There was about her name, long as she lived for the future, 
that mysterious, intangible something known as a rumor. 

“ Lady Darner — ah ! yes — let me see. There was some 
strange story about her ; what was it ?” 

And the answer would be : 

It was something about a murder, but I never understood 
what. ” 

None ever quite knew the whole of the story. 

It was a cruel disappointment to her Grace of Redfem and 
Mistress Isabel Darner when Lord and Lady Darner returned 
to Avonwold together. 

“It could not be true that she was accused of the murder,” 
said the duchess, ‘ ‘ or why would she be here now ?” 

But Mistress Isabel assured her, no matter how miraculously 
the mistress of Avonwold had been freed, she had, in very truth, 
been charged with killing Robert Elster. 

Then, when the story of Kate Repton came out, the county 
was divided into two sections — one declared that the whole story 
of Lady Darner was a mistake, caused by the stupidity and want 
of knowledge of the detectives ; the other half declared that 
there had been proper grounds for what had been said, but that 
the story had been hushed up, as money and rank can hush 
anything. 

That was the price Lady Darner paid for her secret 


424 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SECRE T. 


Her husband, who had loved and trusted her with such loyal 
and implicit faith, loved her still ; but a shadow had fallen over 
his life that no effort of hers could ever drive away. 

He never said one impatient word to her ; he never reproached 
her. He never allowed the subject to be mentioned in her pres- 
-ence. 

He showed to her the most loyal and chivalrous respect, but 
the shadow was there. A stain, for the firot time, rested on the 
name of Darner — a shadow lay between husband and wife that 
nothing ever completely drove away. 

Not only between husband and wife, but between mother 
and children. They retained the most loving faith in her; they 
thought her peerless in grace and in beauty ; they were proud 
of her; but the same intangible something pursued her, and 
each of her three children, despite their love, their pride, their 
faith, knew there had been some “story about mamma.” 

She had to run the gantlet of the wonder of all her friends 
and acquaintances, for Lord Darner would have no more se- 
crecy. 

In the course of a few months, a paragraph went the round 
of the papers, stating, in most diplomatic language, that it was 
not generally known that the late-lamented statesman, Thorn- 
ton Marchmount, Esq., had left a widow and son ; that his wid- 
ow had married Lord Darner of Avonwold, and that his son 
would soon succeed to the Marchmount estates. 

She had to listen to what every one said ; to hear the half- 
vailed sneers of her rival, the duchess, and Mistress Isabel. 

“I always told you, Aubrey, there was something wrong 
about her, and you see I was not mistaken,” that lady would 
say, triumphantly. “We shall never know all the truth, but it 
is not for nothing that Karl’s hair has grown so gray and his 
face so sad. ” 

She had to bear all this, and own that her punishment was 
just. 

She had to submit to the looks of curiosity and wonder that 


LAD Y DAMER SECRET. 


425 


greeted her whenever and wherever she made her appearance ; 
but perhaps the heaviest part ot all was when, to secure poor 
Rose’s happiness, she had to humble herself to the Earl and 
Countess Dysart, and word for word tell her story over again. 

“Of course,” the countess had said to her husband, when 
the shadow first fell over Avonwold, ‘ ‘ if there be really any- 
thing terribly wrong, we must persuade Archie to give up the 
engagement. I could never consent for him to marry the 
daughter of any one who has a story. The Dysarts must be 
above all suspicion, above all reproach.” 

And the earl, though feeling terribly uncertain how his son 
would behave under such circumstances, quite agreed with his 
wife that, if there really was anything very dreadful, the engage- 
ment must be broken. 

They were kindness itself to Rose during the few days she re- 
mained there, but they told Archie their decided wish that if 
anything unforeseen came to light respecting the Darners, that 
engagement must be broken at once. 

He was very unhappy. He loved his parents very dearly ; he 
had never in his life opposed their wishes. He could not en- 
dure the thought of making them wretched, nor could he tell 
how he was to live without Rose. 

So, like the honest, simple, straightforward man he was, he 
went to Lord Darner and told his story. 

Lord Darner spoke a few words to his wife, who had grown 
strangely meek and humble. 

“I think,” he said, in conclusion, “you ought to do it, 
Florence. I do not say you must, but I think it is only just 
that you ought ” 

The result of which convensation was that Lady Darner drove 
over to Hatton Court, and had a long interview with the earl 
and countess. 

It would be wrong to say that they yielded at once. They 
heard her story and weighed it calmly. It was Lord Dysart 
himself who settled the question. 


426 


LADY DAMER ’ 6 ' SECRE T, 


‘‘The marriage was legal,” he said, “imprudent, secret, but 
legal ; the birth of your son was legitimate. I have my own 
opinion as to the prudence of your conduct Perhaps it is not 
my place to say anything about it It is free from all stains of 
dishonor, and I am not justified in refusing to sanction the 
marriage between my son and your daughter. ” 

With that reluctant consent she was forced to be content It 
was a great humiliation for her, but the golden head, once so 
proudly carried, was often bent low now in humble self-abase- 
ment 

Had she any further price to pay.? 

This much, that she never saw the same smile of perfect love, 
content, and happiness on Hope’s face again. Hope’s love 
never varied, never changed ; but the total trust and loving con- 
tent had gone from it, and Florence Lady Darner knew that 
in telling the story of her marriage she had stabbed that gentle 
heart with the most cruel pain life could give. 

There was little difficulty in establishing Verner’s claim to 
the Marchmount property. Lord Darner himself made out the 
proper legal claims. 

There was no flaw in the marriage. It was legal and correct 
as his own ; nor was Miss Marchmount averse to declaring the 
handsome young poet her heir. 

She was surprised by the history of her brother’s marriage. 

“Yet not altogether surprised,” she said to Lady Darner; 
“my brother hinted at something of the kind in his last letter 
to me. Now I understand what he meant.” 

So Vemer Marchmount left Hatton Court, and went home to 
Marchmount Towers as its future heir and master. 

It was all so quietly and naturally done that there was no 
scandal, no eclat. Every one agreed that, for once, Fortune 
had been singularly wise in the distribution of her favors. 


LAD Y DAMER ’ ^ SECRE T. 


427 


THAPTER LXXX. 

SHADOW AND SUN. 

Wh/c’li of US, dear rerder, looking back on a life of twenty, 
thirty, ^orty, or even rnore years, can say to ourselves, we have 
had ac sorrow ? 

T he death-bell was tolled for those whom you and I loved 
best There have been sickness, sorrow, and loss. We have 
kissed a white, silent face, and felt the same coffin-lid that hid 
it away forever, hid also the brightest sunbeam of our lives. 
Sooner or later suffering must come. Souls are not butterflies, 
created to flutter in warmth and fragrance, then die. They 
reach perfection through suffering. 

Neither, looking back, can we say that life has had no bright- 
ness. Joy-bells have rung for us ; we have worn a wreath of 
orange-blossoms; fair-faced children have called us mother; a 
kindly, true-hearted husband has made happiness for us. If we 
are drawing near the vast shores of Eternity, we look back on 
mingled shade and sun. 

So it was with Lady Darner. Her secret was not so fatal as 
it might have been. Neither did she escape the consequences, 
as she had once hoped to do. Her life was not wholly marred, 
neither did she fail to pay a heavy price for her weakness. 

All the eclat of rank and position was here ; but ladies of 
strict integrity told how once before a drawing-room was held, 
royal lips asked the question, “What is the story about Lady 
Darner.?” and when told that it was the history of a private 
marriage, contracted while she was very young, and kept secret 
ever since, that the kindly royal face was very serious; but r 
further remark was made. 

When Lady Darner, in all the pride of her magnifice^ ’ 
went to balls; operas, or fetes, people said : 


428 


LAD Y DAMER ’ 5 SEC RE T. 


*‘She is wonderfully beautiful, but her face looks sad. What 
was that sad, strange story about her ? ’' 

The penalty of every sin must be paid ; one may as well hope 
to escape death as that. To one so proud and sensitive the 
f price was heavy, but she paid it without a murmur. 

She' was no longer queen of the county, her Grace of Red- 
fern usurped her place, and Lady Darner submitted. She could 
not hold her own against a woman on whose fair name no 
shadow of blame had ever rested. 

There came a day of great happiness for her, when all Eng- 
land, as though by magic, rose to do homage and honor to her 
son, Verner Marchmount; when his poem was eagerly praised 
by the highest lady in the land, and the people vied with each 
other in doing him honor. When English lips and English 
hearts pronounced him the king of poets, his mother was proud 
of him, and rejoiced in his fame. 

There came another day of great sadness and sorrow, when 
she, with Hope Charteris, stood by Jane Elster s death-bed, and 
Jane said to her ; 

“Your secret has lain most heavily on me. Only God, in 
the depths of His knowledge and mercy, knows why 1 have suf- 
fered so heavily for the wrong you did. Your secret cost my 
only son his life — it has cost me mine — but I do not complain 
now. I clasp my hands and say that what I do not understand 
in this world God will make clear to me in the next. 

Over that pale, dying face the golden head drooped humbly. 
Lady Darner pressed her proud lips on the white brow. 

“Jane,” she said, hurriedly, “will you pardon me.?” 

“With all my heart,” was the reply. “I have to ask your 
pardon, too. I betrayed you, but the loss of my son drove me 
mad. ” 

And the two women — the proud, beautiful peeress and the 
humble cottager — kissed each other as friends and equals in the 
ol death. 

Elster lies by her son s side, the little cottage and gar- 


LADY DAMER^S SECRET. 


429 

den at Croston have passed into other hands, and the mem- 
ory of the simple, kindly woman who suffered so much is dy- 
ing away. * 

There came to Florence Lady Darner another day of intense 
and most radiant happiness, when, surrounded by the nobles 
of the land, she saw her daughter married to Lord St. Albans. 

It was a double wedding, for her son, Verner Marchmount, 
on the same day married Lilly Curzon. They tell at Avon- 
wold to this day of the glories of the wedding — how the joy- 
bells rang from Avonleigh church ; how the birds sang in the 
sunshine, and all nature wore her gayest and most festive at- 
tire ; how fairly the flowers bloomed, and how noble was the 
company that filled the old church. There was Lord Darner, 
stately and chivalrous, with the least sign of the past shadow on 
his face, and a light tinge of gray in his hair. There was Lord 
Dysart and his wife, both engrossed in the happiness of their 
son. There was Hope Charteris, magnificently dressed, her 
kindly, corpely face still bearing traces of all she had suffered, 
and yet it was the face of one who, after heavy trouble, was at rest. 

Lady Darner had never looked more beautiful than on this day 
of her daughter’s wedding. Her lovely face was calm and se- 
rene, her golden head half bent in sweet and gracious humility. 
Looking in her face, one read a story there. 

I’he brides were as all brides are by right divine, lovely as a 
poet s dream ; and, though the style was different, it would 
hardly have been possible to find handsomer men than Lord 
St. Albans and Verner Marchmount. 

So, under the shadow of the orange-blossoms, we will leave 
them, bidding them Godspeed, praying Heaven to bless them 
and send sunshine with the shade. 

The memory of these things is dying away now ; there are 
few who ever speak of the half-forgotten scandal of “Lady Da- 
rner’s Secret. ” 



THE END. 


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